


Put The Words In My Song

by shitfanficmeup



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Human, Anxious Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Bottom Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Canon-Typical Violence, Connor Deserves Happiness, Depression, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fear of Death, First Time, Good Dog Sumo (Detroit: Become Human), Gun Violence, Hank Anderson Swears, Hank Being Awesome, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Human Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Minor Character Death, Night Terrors, Please Don't Hurt Me, Police Uniforms, Protective Hank Anderson, The Author Is A Struggling College Student, Top Hank Anderson, Violence, Virgin Connor (Detroit: Become Human)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-08-24 09:59:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 20,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16637789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shitfanficmeup/pseuds/shitfanficmeup
Summary: Hank Anderson; Grumpy, alcoholic, loner, damn good cop, bisexual disaster. Connor Allen; Boring, healthy, hopeful, eager rookie, here & queer. These newly paired partners have to figure out how to deal with each other while navigating their obvious feelings for each other, violent suspects, their own personal traumas... and oh yeah, Connor's homophobic father.





	1. Mercury

**Author's Note:**

> All chapters will have a corresponding song as the title. Artist and name will also be in end notes. (Head up... most of them will be by Sleeping At Last)

When Lieutenant Hank Anderson walked into the Detroit Police Department on Wednesday morning (very hungover and considerably late), there was this… little dude… sitting in front of his desk. Unlike Hank’s, the stranger’s uniform was neatly pressed and well-fitting on his lithe, muscular body. His brown hair was neatly shaved on the sides with one curl springing out of place on his forehead.

As Hank walked up to him his brain was trying to process everything about him but all he could think was, **‘Who the fuck are you?’** Luckily, what came out of his mouth was, “Can I help you?”

  
The young guy stood up, giving Hank a look the aged Lieutenant couldn’t quiet place; it was somewhere between nervous, intimidated and enamored. He cheerfully extended his hand out and smiled, “Lieutenant Anderson, my name is Connor. I was hired by Captain Fowler as a new officer. He assigned me to be your partner.”

Hank could do nothing but stare in confusion, definitely making a fool out of himself as he stood still in place in the middle of the bullpen, mouth agape and unmoving. Instead of shaking Connor’s hand, Hank grabbed his small wrist and dragged him to Fowler’s office. Opening up the glass doors of the Captain’s office, Hank asked with no real sensitivity, “Who the fuck is this?”

Knowing this conversation was coming, Jeffery didn’t even have to look up from his paperwork, “This is Connor, he’s your new partner.” His face wasn't remotely apologetic; having known Hank for years, he knew how the Lieutenant could behave.

Still fighting the sudden and unapproved change, Hank shook his head, “Uhh, no the fuck he isn’t.”

Finally, Fowler looked up at Hank who still had Connor’s boney wrist in his hand and his soaking wet patrol jacket still on. Sounding exhausted, Jeffery ran a hand over his face, “Hank, for Christ’s sake. He was top of his class, just like you. He just graduated from the academy, he needs experience.”

 **'Experience?!'** “What about Tina or Chris or Ben?” At this point, Hank was reaching and both him and Fowler knew it. The only person who didn’t was Connor who finally spoke up, “If my presence causes issues—” He was quickly cut off by the two older men in front of him, “Shut up!” And that, he did, not wanting to make a bad impression on his first day... however, maybe it's too late for that?

Losing his patience with the senior Lieutenant, Fowler snapped with a hand slamming on his white desk, “Train the rookie and I won’t add this insubordination to your already impressive record!”

Looking like he might stab somebody, Hank left the office, his heavy, black boots slamming on the stairs and over to his desk. Trying to be obedient, Connor followed him and stopped by the Lieutenant’s chair. Sounding as cheerful as he could, Connor said, “I look forward to working with you, Lieutenant. If there’s anything I can do to make our time together more bearable for you, let me know.”

 **‘Please, God. Let me not kill him.’** Hank took a very slow, deep, measured breath and ran his hands through his grey hair and managed to say, “You can start by sitting down and not lurking over my shoulder.”

Immediately listening to Hank, Connor sat at the empty desk across from him and started to set up his desktop and department account until a half-hour later when Hank spoke up, some of the previous bite gone form his voice, “Hey, fresh meat. Get up.”

Connor was immediately on his feet as he waited for Hank to stand up. As they walked out to Hank’s patrol car, Hank briefed Connor on the call they were going to; a single-person homicide. Basic but still horrible. Hank hoped that Connor had a strong stomach, the smell was usually the first thing to hit people.

Inside the house, Connor listened quietly as Hank walked him through the situation. He couldn’t help to but allow himself a small smile at how eager Connor was to learn. Hank remembered what it was like to be a rookie, how exciting and new it all was. As he looked at Connor, he couldn't help but stare at his observant brown eyes, soft styled hair and fit body. Before he could stop himself he thought, **‘Damn… this kid is actually kind of attractive.’**  

When they left, Hank finally asked Connor what he thought happened, curious as to how intuitive he was. Connor’s answer was well-thought out and calculated, “It seems like a domestic abuse case escalated by the male’s consistent use of Red Ice.”

Sure, it was easy enough to figure out but after all, it was the kid’s first day on the job. Back at the station, Hank had the district attorney make up a warrant for the husband’s arrest. After showing Connor how to fill out a stupid amount of paperwork, Hank decided that it was a good time to leave for the day. As he got up to leave, Connor picked his head up and hopefully said, “Before you go, Lieutenant, is there anything else I can do?”

Being tired from his day and the stress of it, Hank snapped, “No.” And that was the last thing he said to Connor before he left.

As Connor finished looking through the files, Chris Miller, a now fellow officer, placed a hand on Connor’s shoulder, “Don’t worry, Hank will warm up to you. He’s a good guy.” All the young officer could think was, _‘I sure hope so.’_

Having nothing else to do for the day, Connor got in his plain sedan and drove the short distance to his little, bare apartment. As he cooked his usual dinner of chicken and salad, Connor thought back on the day he’d had. The station was nice enough with it’s cleanliness and employee. The crime scene had been mildly horrific but nothing he hadn’t seen from the academy. But out of everything what stuck in his thoughts was Hank. That grouchy, hungover, bitter man who Connor couldn’t help but find ridiculously, horribly, helplessly attractive. He was easily half a foot taller than Connor and had almost 85 pounds on him. Hank’s blue eyes were something Connor had to keep prying his own eyes away from. He fell asleep that night hoping that he could make Lieutenant Anderson happy.

The next day Connor showed up perfectly on time so when he saw Hank walking into the station, he decided to get up and get his partner a coffee. Assuming he drank it black, that’s how Connor made it. When he handed Hank the mug, he got a half-hearted but grateful grunt of a ‘thank you’ in reply but that was enough for Connor to feel a small bloom of pride in his chest.

  
After sitting in silence for an uncomfortable length of time, Connor cleared his throat and spoke up, “Lieutenant, I believe that we should focus on the homicide from yesterday.”

Giving him a nasty, fed-up look in return, Hank sneered, “I believe you should fuck off.”

Connor sunk into his black chair, feeling salty about getting nothing done. That was until Captain David Allen, a member of the DPD SWAT unit, walked into the bullpen; the older man commanded authority without ever having to say anything. He held himself with pride and respect (the pure muscle of him, his black uniform, and obvious firearm just backed it up). Walking up behind Connor he didn’t miss a beat before coldly greeting, “Connor.”

Hank could see his partner instantly tense and sit straight up before answering, “Hello, sir.”

After David was already gone and in Fowler’s office, Hank chuckled, “Wow, second day and Allen already knows you.” Historically, Hank wasn't crazy about Captain Allen, he always took things too seriously and too far. Luckily, it wasn't often that they had to work together.

Visibly looking upset and almost ashamed, Connor was barely able to make eye contact with Hank before answering, “He’s my father.”

**‘Oh… fuck.’**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mercury by Sleeping At Last


	2. Kamikaze

Honestly, Hank was disappointed in himself that he didn’t figure that out before. After all, Connor and David had the same last name and looked similar. But Connor didn’t have the same cold look in his eyes as David did; his brown eyes were warm and eager and— **‘Get a hold of yourself, Anderson. You sound like a goddamn teenager.’**

When Allen walked back over to their desks, he completely ignored his son and only spoke to Hank, “Anderson. There’s a suspect that needs to be brought in. He’s supposedly staying at The Fern Motel. Bring Connor. Don’t let him fuck anything up.” After handing Hank the file on the suspect, Allen nodded to his son, leaving things fairly awkward between Hank and Connor.

On their way to the call, Hank tried to bring up the topic of what the fuck is wrong with Allen, “Your dad is a real ray of sunshine.”

To Connor’s credit, he tried to be strong. As he looked out the window at the rain falling, he shrugged, “He is good at his job and expects me to be the same.” The rest of their drive was silent.

The Fern Motel was one of the dumpiest motels in the city; mostly filled with hookers, drug dealers, and other scum-shits. At the motel, Hank took the photo of their suspect and headed into the office where he asked the oblivious owner if he recognized the man in the photo. Once they had a room number, they started walking towards it but before they could open it or before Hank could even get a hand on his gun, their suspect; a middle-aged man with a reason to run took off out of the room, pushing past both Hank and Connor.

Picking himself up off the cold, wet ground, Hank yelled at Connor who was still standing in shock, “What are you waiting for?! Chase him!”

With that order, Connor took off like a shot towards the quickly disappearing suspect. His heavy boots rapidly falling on the wet concrete until he reached a chain-link fence separating the street and the highway full of high-speed autonomous cars.

Their suspect vaulted over the fence and started to run again. Before Connor could follow, Hank ran up next to him. Through his heavy breathing he managed to huff out, “That’s fucking insane.” Ignoring Hank, Connor grabbing onto the chain-link fence and started to heave himself up, only stopping when Hank grabbed onto his forearm and yelled, “Where are you going?!”

He needed to catch the suspect. He needed to. It’s what he was trained to do, “I can’t let him get away!” Still with one foot on the ground, Connor watched the suspect getting further and further away.

He barely registered Hank’s voice commanding, “Don’t go after him, that’s an order!” over his father’s voice in his head, ‘Don’t fuck anything up.’ _‘Don’t fuck this up. Don’t._ ’

Harshly shoving Hank off of him, Connor jumped the fence with ease. Ignoring the distant yell of, “Connor! Goddamn it!”

Having zero disregard for his own safety as he vaulted over the guard rail into the lanes of high-speed oncoming traffic, Connor dodged cars while trying to keep his eyes trained on the suspect.

Just as Connor almost grabbed the runner, a truck came barreling towards them; narrowly missing them only when Connor jumped forward, tackling their suspect and quickly handcuffing him before pulling the man off of the highway before they became road kill.

Hank’s heart only stopped rapidly pounding against his ribcage when Connor was safely out of the road. By the time Hank drove to the other side of the highway and met back up with Connor, the suspect was already in the back of another cops patrol car. Completely ignoring the officer that Connor was talking to, Hank grabbed his partner by the collar of his uniform and slammed him against the closest brick wall he could find. Getting close to Connor’s perfect dumb face, Hank snarled, “Are you out of your fucking mind?! I told you to not to go! You could have died!”

Gripping his thin fingers in the fabric of Hank’s jacket, subconsciously pulling him closer, Connor whispered, “I couldn’t fail.”

Wanting to either kiss or punch him, Hank decided to just drop the smaller man but not before telling him to, “get the fuck in the patrol car before he has to walk back.”

During the whole drive back Connor stared at Hank, just trying to read the older man. His eyes were angry, his knuckles white from the grip on the steering wheel. Clearly he was mad but why? Connor caught the suspect. He did his job. That's all that mattered.

At the station, Hank’s mood didn’t change. Although, he was so damn attractive when he was grumpy that Connor didn’t feel the need to complain much. The way his eyebrows scrunched together, his blue eyes looked like the sky before a thunder storm and his whole being radiated 'alpha'. 

Being completely lost in his thoughts, Connor didn’t notice that Hank was standing with his personal car keys in his hand until he put a strong hand on Connor’s shoulder, “I’m going home. Don’t do anything stupid.” His voice was softer and almost... worried? that Connor would do something ill-advised. 

Turns out, the only other stupid thing he would do that day would be agreeing to go to his father’s house for dinner. Father and son ate in silence until David finally asked, “So, you brought in that suspect?”

“Yes, sir.”

That is all that was spoken over most of the meal until the end when again Connor was asked a question, “Do you remember Anthony?” When Connor nodded in reply, David continued, “His daughter is visiting… you should get dinner with her.”

 _‘Here we go again.’_ Trying to suppress his bitter laughter as he pushed his uneaten peas around his plate, Connor answered, “No, thank you.”

David did not appreciate the sarcasm that his son threw at him. He set down his water glass hard enough to splash some out onto the hardwood table, “Connor, we’ve talked about this.”

Yes, they have. Countless times has David tried to convince Connor he was straight and set him up with girls. Before Connor had turned eighteen, Allen had even tried to send him to a gay conversion camp; something Connor has neither forgotten about or will ever forgive.

Already done with the conversation, Connor stood up and started to clear the dishes. Trying to escape from the trap his father was putting him in, “I don’t want to date her.”

Watching Connor suffer must be one of David’s favorite past times because he doesn’t drop it, “You don’t even know her—”

That was the last straw. Connor couldn’t stay quiet anymore. He quickly cut off his father, raising his voice for the first time in months, “I don’t want to date a woman!”

And any chance of having one good night together faded away, “Don’t raise your voice at me. You are not gay. You’re just confused.”

Connor said nothing more to his father as he quickly walked across the kitchen and living room, pulling on his old worn-out jean jacket. The feeling of David grabbing his upper arm with a vise-like grip sent waves of anxiety through Connor as he glared at his father, “What? You going to hit me again?”

His strong, confident face was a gross misrepresentation of how he actually felt. The scared little boy inside of him came out after his father dropped him and he was driving home; his tears blurred his vision as he drove past the still-on lights of Detroit, wishing he had somebody—something to go home to. Instead, he was greeted with the same cold, empty bed.

Two days later, a new case landed on the partner’s desk. Hank read through it first, shaking his head in disbelief at how horribly sick people could be. Hank looked from the case to Connor and back; not wanting to give such an inexperienced, young detective pictures and details of something so graphic. Regardless, it was his job to do so. Handing Connor the file, he grimaced as Connor’s big brown eyes flew over the information; the images of the victims completely dismembered, throats slit, surrounded by pools of their own blood.

Clearing his throat, Connor closed the manila folder and asked, “So, the suspect… He has been kidnapping people and what? Just… slaughtering them?”

Hank could do nothing but shrug as he and Connor walked to their patrol car. Hank had been to many crime scenes, too many to count so the horribly graphic scene of a young woman who had been beaten bloody before being shot in the chest didn’t affect him nearly as much as it did Connor. The young detective immediately went pale and almost green.

Hank, of course, noticed and gently took Connor’s elbow and pulled him close enough to whisper, “Go outside. Take a deep breath and pull yourself together.”

Unlike when his father grabbed him, nothing about Hank was angry or aggressive. It was a touch Connor wanted to lean into, not pull away from. After a few deep breaths of clean (well… clean for downtown Detroit) air, Connor walked back inside and stayed close to Hank’s side throughout the rest of their time at the scene.

Three weeks and four more murders later, the two partners had done nothing other than track credit card records of a potential suspect after finding his DNA at three of the three of the six crime scenes. However, even with a name—Ryan Mathers—they were unable to locate the suspect. He was something of a ghost; his last known address had been vacated, his job hadn’t heard from him and neither had any family. All Hank and Connor knew was he was killing people and disappearing after and he needed to be stopped.

Still, with no other information, Fowler pulled Hank and Connor into his office with a very unhappy look on his face. That was confirmed when Captain Fowler started yelling at the partners, “You two should have solved this by now!” He pointed an accusatory finger at Hank, “You need to get your shit together!” He then pointed to Connor angrily, “And you! I expected more from you!”

After being reamed by their Captain for another few minutes, Fowler kicked them out. Back at their desks, Connor scrubbed his hands over his face, mussing up his hair, “He’s right. We should be trying harder.”

Hank wanted to hug Connor and by the look on Connor’s face, he needed a hug as well. Instead, Hank tried to help him feel better with words, “You’re here more than I am and I feel like I never leave.”

Trying to straighten himself out, Connor focused again on the task at hand, “I believe today would be a good day to—”

He was cut off by Hank who tiredly slapped his hand down on his white desk, “Look, kid. We’ve put in enough for today. Go home.”

As the Lieutenant left the station, he looked back at Connor who had his head hung and his fingers interlaced behind his neck. Hank’s heart cramped knowing the stress of not being able to solve a case was getting to the kid. **‘Maybe I should invite him out for a drink—nah, he wouldn’t want to…’**

As Connor gathered himself and started to go back through all the information they had. When he ended up hitting the same walls, he knew he would never make his father, Hank, or himself proud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kamikaze by Walk The Moon


	3. South

At home that night, Hank sat on his couch with his laptop on his lap and his big Saint Bernard curled up next to him. Patting the dog’s head, Hank started his search, “Alrighty, Sumo. Let’s find out about this fucking kid.”

In his searches, Hank found out that Connor Allen graduated with very high scores on all his exams and classes to which Hank grunted and took a drink of his whiskey, “Huh… not bad. Almost beat my scores.”

Getting to the more personal information, Hank learned that Connor moved here with his father from Washington D.C but had been at college for the past few years. Hank also found out that Connor is an only child and that unfortunately, his mother died thirteen years ago when Connor was fifteen years old. The pang of sadness in his chest stung as he thought about how hard that must have been for the young detective,  **‘Oh god… poor fucking kid.’**

Having lost his own parents, Hank knew how bad it hurt but when he saw the details of how Connor’s mother, Maria, died he knew it was a different pain; ‘Mother and wife of a D.C police captain dies at the age of thirty-nine after being shot. Maria Allen was walking home with her only son when they were held at gunpoint. Trying to protect her son, Maria was shot four times. The suspect is still at large but the description now stands as; a shorter middle-aged man wearing a black hoodie and tan work boots. He also had a hand tattoo of a snake.’

Hank’s heart instantly dropped to his feet knowing what Connor saw. The impact that must have had on him had to have witnessed the death of his mother. Hank vividly remembered pulling his dead son out of his wrecked car, he could only imagine how horrible it must have been for Connor to see that kind of death as a child.

It didn’t take the Lieutenant long to end up on Captain Allen’s Facebook page (which somehow still exists) and find various pictures of Connor as a baby and a young child; first birthday, Christmas Days over the years, first day of school. Hank had to admit that Connor was pretty damn cute. Cute enough to look like Cole.

The thought of his late son made Hank close his laptop and refill his glad of whiskey… many more times until he let the sweet darkness of unconsciousness pull him under.

Who wasn’t unconscious was Connor, who diligently stayed up far too late looking over their case and doing research on how to catch the suspect. Connor’s stress and anxiety kept him awake until three am; at that point he had four hours to get some rest before having to be at the station.

The next afternoon, Hank woke up to a certain somebody gently slapping his face,”—tenant? Lieutenant, wake up!”

As Hank’s blue eyes tiredly blinked awake, Connor’s concerned face came into view. Not understanding exactly what was happening Hank asked, “What the hell are you doing here?”

As Hank sat up, his night came back to him in blurs of whiskey. Connor sat back on his heels, looking gorgeous (as usual) in his uniform., “You didn’t show up for work. I was concerned.”

Hank immediately started to feel self-conscious having a perfect young thing like Connor seeing Hank in an old t-shirt and boxers, still half drunk and passed out on his kitchen floor. Instead of being embarrassed, he let himself get pissed, “Well, I’m fine so why don’t you go ahead and fuck off?” He tried to stand up but was still too drunk for that.

Connor, being perfect, helped the Lieutenant to his feet and carried him towards the bathroom. Noticing Hank wasn’t comfortable with his presence, Connor left. He was about to leave the house but a large Saint Bernard was whining and scratching at the front door. After looking for a moment, Connor found the red leash on the small side table and clipped it onto the fidgeting dog’s collar before opening up the front door to the quickly cooling fall weather. _‘Now, this, should be my job.’_

Between Connor’s love of dogs and Sumo’s excitement of a new human and being outside, they were gone a bit longer than Connor first thought. By the time they got back, Sumo was exhausted, Connor’s fingers were red and frozen, and Hank was sitting on the couch (now with a clean body and clothes).He looked up from his coffee with a most uninterested look, “Stealing my dog?”

As Hank waited for Connor’s answer, he got impatient and slapped his leg and sighed, “Look, I’m obviously taking a personal day. Why don’t you do the same thing?” With no response, Hank continued, “Go on, do whatever young kids do.”

At that, Connor awkwardly shuffled, trying to take in everything. Hank looking so relaxed, how the black t-shirt he was wearing made his muscles pop, the entire everything of his house. Eventually, Connor shyly spoke up, “…I don’t know what they do…”

Hank couldn’t help but laugh because of course he didn’t. This whole kid’s life was work and whatever else his father said and that was just fucking sad, “Fuck, kid. Seriously? Go get drunk, have sex, break the law.” **‘With me, preferably.’**

Connor stared with big confused eyes at his superior, “…Aren’t we the law? Also, I’ve never drank.”

Again Hank laughed and Connor couldn’t stop the feeling of warmth that spread in his chest. Not understand how Connor had never drank before, he asked, “Didn’t you go to college?”

As Hank got up to the fridge to get a beer for Connor, the younger officer answered, “Yes. To learn, not drink.”

Walking behind Connor, Hank put his hand on Connor’s back, leading him over to the couch. Once they were both sitting, Hank handed Connor the now open beer and waited for him to take a drink, "I know it's early but you need to experience it at some point."

  
As he tasted the bitter liquid for the first time, Connor’s face scrunched up but still, he took another drink. Hank smirked behind his own glass, **‘Fuck, he’s so damn cute.’**

After Hank had eventually convinced Connor to call Fowler and take a half day (for the first time in his life), the two decided to continue to hang out together; mostly in silence with the game on until Connor piped up, “Lieutenant, may I ask you a question?”

Still with his eyes glued on the TV, Hank nodded and waited for the question. Which was, “Why are you being nice to me?”

That made Hank feel a little guilty; he didn’t want to be mean to Connor but after years of working and being alone with just his dog, alcohol, and bitterness to keep him company, suddenly having an excited, attractive, positive partner was… an adjustment. Instead of explaining that, Hank shrugged, “I’m still too drunk to be an asshole.”

After a few drinks, Connor had kicked off his work boots and loosened two buttons on his uniform. He tried to ignore Hank’s hungry blue eyes devouring him but that got hard to do when Hank muted the television and gave Connor is full attention, “So, you had your first drink. You haven’t broken the law but we’ll work on that. Please tell me you’ve had sex.”

Connor squirmed in his seat, desire and embarrassment pooling in his gut, “Sir, that is inappropriate.”

Hank chuckled threw his arm over the back of the couch, not close enough to touch Connor but close enough that Connor could touch Hank if he wanted, “Come on, we aren’t working.”

The dark blush that spread from Connor’s cheeks to his ears was Hank’s answer but Connor still said, “No… I haven’t had sex.”

Not that Hank was judging but he would have thought that an attractive twenty-eight year old would have had before, “Fucking seriously?”

Looking like he was going to curl in on himself and drop dead, Connor played with the label of his now empty beer bottle, “I kissed a boy in middle school once. My father found out and was… unhappy about it.” _‘Putting it lightly.’_

“So, you’ve never been touched before?” Hank leaned forward and placed his glass on the coffee table before scooting closer to Connor and gently putting a hand on his thigh.

Connor felt the electricity run through him as he leaned into the touch while trying to pull away, knowing it was wrong. Immediately Connor tensed, “Lieutenant…”

Hank hushed him, “Shhh, it’s okay. If you really want to stop, just say so.” Before sliding his hand up Connor’s fit thigh and slowly started to rub Connor’s crotch.

Connor was embarrassed at how hard he already was but that didn’t stop him from whining and moving close enough to kiss Hank’s neck, earning him a groan from the older man.

With one effortless movement, Hank shifted so he was on top of Connor with his partner’s thin legs wrapped around his waist. As they made out like two horny teenagers, it was clear they both were enjoying themselves very much until Connor let his mind wonder. He remembered what his father had angrily shouted at him, ‘It’s an abomination! It’s disgusting! It’s wrong! You’re disgusting!’

Feeling the anxiety rise in his throat, Connor shoved Hank off of him and stared at the shocked Lieutenant with wide eyes, “We can’t… I’m so sorry.”

Connor’s hands shook as he quickly tugged on his boots and left before Hank could say anything else. Leaving Hank in a state of confusion, the Lieutenant ran his hands over his face and wondered out loud, “What the fuck?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> South by Sleeping At Last


	4. Most Beautiful Bitter Fruit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter because I'm trash :)

The next day, Connor didn’t show up for work which for the rookie was something that had never happened before. Hank immediately knew he fucked up, especially when Captain Allen walked into the station. His Grinch face was amplified when he saw that his son wasn’t in work.

Walking up to Hank, Allen rudely asked, “Where’s Connor?”

Not wanting to talk to David at all because at this point, fuck that guy. Hank just shrugged and continued working, “Don’t know.”

“Find him.” That was it. And Allen walked away. No concern for his son in his voice, just annoyance at the inconvenience. However, Hank was concerned. He knew Connor at this point. After working together for the last few weeks, Hank knew Connor valued being on time, working hard, and doing his job as well as he could.

Following the address Allen gave him, Hank ended up pulling up to a small, decent apartment building. Walking up two flights of stairs, Hank wound up in front of apartment 15. He knocked three times and loudly said, “Connor, open up!”

No answer.

Again, Hank knocked, “Come on, I know you’re home.” He could have guessed that Connor wouldn’t have wanted to see him; not after what happened the night before. Again with no answer, Hank yelled only half-jokingly, “I’m going to break down your door!”

When the concerned elderly woman next door stuck her head out of her door, Hank flashed his badge, hoping she hadn’t called the cops on the cops. When the woman went back inside, Hank stayed true to his word and slammed his shoulder into the wooden door, successfully breaking the lock. As the door swung open, Hank walked inside, “I told you I would!”

After closing the door behind him, Hank almost immediately noticed that the apartment was empty. Still, he called out, “Connor?”

The silence was too still, too eerie. As he uncomfortably started to walk around, he called Connor a few times with no answer. Something sat wrong in the experienced Lieutenant’s stomach, “Alright, this isn’t funny anymore.” His training and instincts quickly took over as he started to look around the empty apartment. He noticed that the gun safe is open and empty, his bed was neatly made, all of his belongings were organized and clean; it defiantly didn’t look like the apartment of a single twenty-eight year old.

With no clues as to where the young officer went, Hank called Captain Fowler and had some officers start to look for him. Hank’s chest felt tight as he drove around looking for his partner; his mind wondering and flying through the worst case scenarios. **‘What if he got into an accident? God, what if he’s dead?! Okay, he’s probably not dead… maybe. How upset was he? Does he have anxiety attacks? What if he left Detroit?’**

It wasn’t until eleven that night that Hank finally got a phone call from Connor. He answered that call faster than he ever had, “Connor?! Where the fuck are you?!”

Connor’s voice was calm, “Lieutenant, I have our suspect.”

…Not at all what Hank was expecting. After sputtering for a minute, Hank tried to pull together a coherent thought, “I’m sorry… you what?”

Hank could almost hear the sass, “Our suspect. I have him in cuffs.”

Hank had pulled over to the side of the now empty road, wanting to make sure he wasn’t driving the wrong way, “Where are you?”

“In an alley outside of a bar called Kelley’s.” Hank knew it, he had gone there once or twice when he needed to get away from his usual bars; it was seedy and dirty and… not the kind of place a young kid like Connor should be, especially not alone with a dangerous suspect.

Hank threw his car in part and pulled a U-turn and took off in the direction of the bar, angrily growling into the phone, “I’m going to come get you then I’m going to kick your ass.”

For the first time since the had gotten on the phone, Connor’s voice shook, “Perhaps you could drive me to a hospital first?”

  
And Hank’s stomach completely dropped, “…What?”

Connor groaned and audibly winced, “He… may have shot me.”

Stepping harder on the gas, Hank’s old 1988 Oldsmobile lurched forward. Feeling his poor heart double in rate, Hank managed to say, “Please tell me you suddenly developed a sense of humor.”

“No. I currently have two bullet holes in me. One in my stomach and one in my chest. I’m losing a good amount of blood.” As the seconds went by, Connor sounded worse and worse.

Hank tried to pull himself together because in this moment, he had to; he had to be strong and keep himself calm so he could save Connor from his own dumb decisions, “You listen to me. I’m going to hang up so I can call 911. No dying on me, you got it?”

He waited until he heard a weak, “Yes, sir.” Before he hung up and quickly called 911; trying to avoid the complete panic that threatened to take over.

Luckily, with his reckless driving, Hank arrived at the bar that was just outside of the city limits. He barely had time to turn off his car before he was out of it, calling out for his partner, “Connor?! Connor, where are you?!”

A groan drew his attention to a dark corner of the alley, after running over, Hank dropped to his knees besides his bleeding partner. Desperately, putting pressure on Connor’s rapidly bleeding stomach wound. His blue eyes looked down the alley a few feet to see a now unconscious man in handcuffs lying face down on the concrete. He could hear the sirens off in the distance but the amount of blood soaked through Connor’s clothing made Hank think that no matter how close help was, there was no way Connor was going to make it.

A blood-soaked hand grabbing his arm and a harsh cry snapped him back to his task as he tried to calm Connor. As soothingly as he could, Hank hushed him, “Just relax, I got you. I’m here. Stay awake… stay—"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most Beautiful Bitter Fruit- La Dispute


	5. Neptune

Hank shoved past the paramedics to get into the back of the ambulance with Connor, insisting, “He’s my partner, goddamn it! I’m going with him!”

As the EMTs quickly worked to try and stabilize Connor, Hank called Captain Fowler and Captain Allen in a complete panic. Trying desperately to describe what was happening and where they were going.

At the hospital, Connor was ripped away from Hank’s protective hands and swiftly pushed down the hall towards surgery as nurses and doctors got on the same page with their plan for the young man.

After being directed to a small waiting room, Hank couldn’t sit. Instead he anxiously paced; counting the linoleum tiles on the floor and trying to calm his breathing. God only knows how much time passed before a familiar unpleasant voice rang in his ears, “Where is my fucking idiot of a son?”

Hank couldn’t help but snap. Connor was trying to make everybody happy and by doing that he was now laying open on a operating table. Angrily shouting and getting in Allen’s face, Hank spit, “In surgery because he needed to make his over-bearing, asshole father proud!”

“Shouldn’t you be drinking yourself into a grave somewhere?!” **‘Fucking cheap shot.’**

Fowler quickly interrupted them before Hank could knock this fucker out, “Alright, both of you! Knock it off!”

Continuing to wear out the soles of his work boots with every lap of pacing, Hank anxiously worried about what was happening with Connor; was he stable? Had a bullet hit his spine? An artery? How long until the surgery was over? And more importantly… what the hell was Connor thinking?!

Hank's hatred of hospitals only made his anxiety worse. He forgot how much he hated them until he had to sit in one for hours. The last time Hank had set foot in a hospital his son died. And now his partner? Fuck these places. Fucking death factories.

Three hours later, a doctor came out in eerily clean scrubs and gave them an update, “Connor is doing okay, he’s in recovery now.” The sigh of relief that ripped through Hank almost brought tears to his eyes. Unfortunately, Allen and Fowler had to go in first, leaving Hank anxiously waiting for another half hour before he was allowed into the room.

By the time he went to go see Connor both Allen and Fowler were gone. In the dimly lit room, Connor was trying to heave himself up so he was sitting but between his injuries, the pain, and stress of seeing his father and boss, his blood pressure and heart rate were too high. Hank’s feet moved on their own account, carrying him towards Connor’s bed.

Quickly wrapping an arm behind his partner, Hank helped him sit up and tried to calm his nerves with reassurance, “Hey, it’s okay. Take a deep breath.”

Being relieved Hank was next to him, Connor ignored whatever feelings he had about what happened between them, their work relationship, and his pride as he buried his face in Hank’s neck. After taking slow, deep—albeit shaky-- breaths , Connor finally started to calm down.

Feeling Connor grow heavy and relaxed in his arms, Hank asked, “You okay?” But he could tell by the horribly pained look on his face that he wasn’t and not because of the gunshot wounds.

Barely above a whisper, Connor forced out, “I’ll never make him happy.”

Hank desperately wanted him to understand so he tried to explain, “You don’t have to. That’s not the point of your life.” Carefully, Hank supported Connor as he helped him lay down and get comfortable. Focusing on what Connor needed in that moment, Hank softly stroked his hair back and whispered, “Get some rest.” It didn’t take long at all for Connor’s eyes to close and for him to drift off to sleep.

While Connor slept, Hank sat back in his chair, finally relaxing after the most stressful day he’d had in a while. He decided two things; one, he was going to help Connor actually live his life and two, he was pretty infatuated with him. For the first time, Hank really let himself look at Connor and take in the little things about him; his paler skin that was covered with small freckles that traveled from his forehead down to his fingers, including Hank’s personal favorite freckle—the slightly larger one on the right side of Connor’s nose. Hank smiled at the slight curl of Connor’s hair that the young detective was always trying to smooth out but now Hank could easily see how curly and adorably messy it could get.

He tried to ignore the I.V in Connor’s hand as he admired his partner’s slender and delicate hands. Hank just wanted to hold those hands.

About an hour later, Connor slowly blinked awake but quickly winced in pain. Noticing that, Hank spoke up from his chair, “Yeah, gunshot wounds tend to hurt.” This time when Connor winced, it was out of shame. When he said nothing, Hank moved his chair closer to the bed, “Just so you know, when you’re feeling better… I’m still going to kick your ass. You scared the shit out of me.”

The puppy eyes that Connor gave Hank were personally offensive. Those big warm hazel eyes bore holes in Hank’s sole. They were accompanied by a shy, “I’m sorry…”

 **‘Low-blow.’** There was so way Hank could be remotely upset at him, “Oh hell… don’t be sorry, kid. Just don’t you ever decide to go after a murderous lunatic all by yourself again.”

Thankfully, the puppy eyes lessened up but not enough that they didn’t still drive Hank crazy, “Yes, sir.”

Sitting in silence, Hank decided to breach the subject about the elephant in the room, “About the other day…”

Before he could say anything else, Connor cut him off, “I know it was out of line for me to… take advantage of you like that.”

Hank ran a hand through his grey hair, “Connor, if you just listen for a second; I was going to apologize for getting you drunk and basically assaulting you.”

The puppy eyes returned full force in a way that made Hank want to kiss that look off his face, “But… I liked it.”

“Course you did, nobody else has ever touched you. But I mean come on… look at you, and look at me.” Hank said, gesturing to Connor’s body then his own, “You’re gorgeous and I’m a dirty old man.”

Connor’s eyes searched over Hank taking in his body; his strong, sturdy body covered in his grey hair. His big hands were something Connor found himself staring at, wanting to touch, hold, and kiss. Connor wished he could allow himself to bury himself against Hank’s body and be happy, “I don’t think so.”

Chuckling, Hank shook his head in disbelief, “Clearly the blood loss is still getting to you. I’ll let you get some rest.” Standing up, Hank brought Connor his bag of personal effects, “I have to go home and take care of Sumo. Call me if you need anything.”

Before the Lieutenant could leave, Connor stopped him, “Hank… thank you.” _'Please... don't leave. Tell me how you feel. Let me show you how I feel.'_

The look Hank gave him had a million unsaid things behind it. A million things Connor wanted to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neptune by Sleeping At Last


	6. Pluto

Two days later, Hank got a from Connor text while he was sitting at his desk.

**Connor : 11:47 AM**

'Lieutenant, when are we questioning the suspect?”

**Hank : 11:55 AM**

‘I am questioning the suspect later today. YOU are staying home and resting.”

 

When he didn’t get an answer, Hank texted his partner again.

 

**Hank : 12:00 PM**

‘Connor, I mean it. Stay home.’

**Hank : 12:10 PM**

‘You better be sleeping.’

Fifteen minutes later, Connor walked into the bullpen with a coffee and a shit-eating grin on his face. Hank got up to meet him, shaking his head and yelling, “Oh hell no. What did I tell you?!”

Connor just smiled and handed Hank the coffee, “Hello, Lieutenant.”

Ignoring the adorable look on Connor’s face or how he was so bundled up that he looked like the freaking Pillsbury dough boy, Hank stayed on point, Through all the layers, he poked Connor hard in the stomach, making the young officer double over in pain. Hank shook his head and yelled, “Exactly! You should be home resting.”

Before Hank could continue to berate his partner, Fowler stuck his head out of his office and shouted, “Connor!”  
Hank thought, **‘Thank you, backup.’**

“Good thing you’re here. Come here for a second.”

**‘Traitor.’**

Connor looked so damn smug, Hank wanted to slap that look off his face… with his mouth. Instead, he pointed in Connor’s face, “Watch yourself. I still owe you an ass-kicking.”

As Connor walked into Fowler’s fish bowl of an office, he tried to be as pleasant as possible, “Hello, Captain.”

Fowler sat down at his desk with an exhausted sigh, “You know you’re not supposed to be here, right?” When Connor politely nodded, he continued, “That being said, I need to clarify a few things. Why did you decide to go after Mathers alone?”

“It needed to get done. I couldn’t sleep knowing he could kill somebody else.” _‘I also desperately wanted to prove myself to my father and I needed to work after making out with one of your Lieutenant’s on his couch.’_

Thinking back to his days as a detective, Fowler nodded, “Trust me, Connor, I get that but Hank is your partner for a reason. He knows what he’s doing. Tell him next time so he isn’t calling me and your father in a panic that he can’t find you.”

That made Connor pause, _‘He was really that worried about me?’_

  
Before he could dwell too long on that, Fowler continued his questions, “Also, how did you find Mathers?”

“We’ve been tracking his credit card usage and have a general idea of where he lives and where he finds victims so I looked for him. Then I got an alert from a bar so I went.”

Being his usual stressed self, Fowler out his head in his hands for a moment before continuing, “You can stay while Hank questions him. After that you’ll let Anderson take you home and you’ll stay there until you’re fully healed.”

Connor’s smiled stuck around until he watched Hank question their suspect. Hank had always been gruff and intimidating but watching him yell at the suspect for killing people and almost killing Connor was downright terrifying but damn attractive. Connor watched with rapt attention as Hank slammed his fists on the table and berated Mathers until he got a confession.

Not long after the interrogation, Hank drove Connor home, knowing that he took the bus instead of driving because medically, he wasn’t supposed to be driving.

At Connor’s apartment, Hank pulled into a parking spot in the lot and shut his car off, waiting to see is his partner needed any help.

Instead, Connor tried to put on a cheery face and thanked Hank but the experienced Lieutenant could see right through that. He let Connor get out of the car but waited a minute before stepping out and following him up the stairs.

Turns out, Hank was right as Connor was sitting on the stairs only a few steps up. Walking up behind him, Hank crossed his arms and shook his head disapprovingly, “You pushed yourself too hard today, didn’t you?”

Looking ashamed and in pain, Connor nodded and answered, “…Yes.”

Wrapping his arms around Connor, Hank helped pull him to his feet and support him as they walked up the stairs. As they made their way up, Hank could tell that Connor was wincing a lot but he ignored it until they were in his apartment and not pressed against each other. When they were finally inside the apartment, Hank asked, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Very unconvincingly, Connor nodded, “Yes.”

Hank grabbed the front of Connor’s jacket and unzipped it, “You’re a shit liar.” When Connor’s grey long sleeve shirt was exposed, the dark patch of soaked-through blood was obvious against the light grey. Hank looked like he was going to have an aneurism as his hands found Connor’s sides, “What the hell did you do?”

Trying to squirm away from the attention, Connor brushed Hank’s hands off, “I just pulled the stitches, it’s okay.”  
Hank’s hold didn’t waver as he led Connor to the bathroom and lifted him onto the counter, ordering, “Take your shirt off.” As Connor stripped and took off the bloodied bandage, Hank grabbed a towel and dampened it with warm water before starting to gently clean off the dried and fresh blood.

He tried not to stare at Connor’s gorgeously fit body but it was impossible when Connor spoke up in a whisper, “Hank…”

When Hank looked at Connor’s big brown eyes in the soft glow of the flickering bathroom light all Hank could think was, **‘Anderson, are you really going to kiss him again?’** But Connor’s eyes were so wide and hopeful that Hank couldn’t help but lean in. However, with their faces only inches apart before Hank asked, “You going to freak out again?”

When Connor softly shook his head, Hank leaned in and brought their lips together. The relief and warmth they both felt was enough to pull a sigh out of Connor as his small hands found purchase in Hank’s uniform jacket, pulling him close between his legs.

Before things got any more heated, Hank pulled away and rested his forehead against Connor’s. Putting a gentle hand on Connor’s soft face, stroking his thumb over his cheekbone, “You need to start caring about yourself. I know that sounds ridiculous coming from me but you’re worth it, okay?”

Nodding, Connor rested his head on Hank’s chest, wrapping his arms around Hank. They stayed like that for a while just enjoying each other’s company before they decided that Connor should go rest on the couch.

Hank took off his jacket, shoes, outer shirt, and utility belt before going into the kitchen to try and find something for dinner. Coming up shorthanded, he shut the fridge door and walked back over to the couch. When he sat next to Connor he grouched, “You have no food in your fridge.”

“I have chicken and salad.” Sure, like somehow that was going to be enough for two grown men.

Hank brushed that off, “Rabbit food. I’m ordering pizza.”

Fighting his own smile, Connor looked at his hands in embarrassment, “I haven’t had pizza in three years.”

After calling in their order, Hank relaxed on the couch next to Connor, throwing an arm over the back of it, “You need to live. Eat pizza, drink, take a day off. Fuck your father. I mean it, rebel a little.”

His answer was Connor crawling into his lap and wrapping his lithe arms around the back of Hank’s neck. When his superior asked, “What are you doing?”

All Connor answered with was, “Rebelling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pluto by Sleeping At Last 
> 
> What's up? It's me again. One day later. With another short chapter. Hating Myself. Whoop whoop.


	7. Faith

Kissing Hank was… certainly something. It was hot and safe and terrifying and perfect but above all, it was freeing. With Hank’s warm hands on his hips and back, his lips perfectly pressed against his, Connor could forget all out his father; he could forget about the homophobia and hate, about his anger and grief. He was happy and he felt good and in that moment, that’s all that mattered.

What started out soft and careful didn’t last that way for long. With Connor grinding his hips down on Hank’s growing erection, he couldn’t help but whine and shift closer especially when Hank grabbed a handful of Connor’s short brown hair and pulled him closer.

Needing a better way to do this, Hank placed Connor back on the couch, with his back between the arm rest and cushions. As they were kissing, Hank got lost in his own thoughts, **‘Maybe you should slow down. He’s never done this before. Slow down.’** He slowly started to rub over Connor’s sweatpants before hooking his thumbs in the waist band and sliding them off. Surprised when he realized that Connor wasn’t wearing any underwear. Hank couldn’t help but chuckle, “No underwear?”

Connor blushed and shyly replied, “I don’t like it.” His voice was cut off by Hank closing a hand around Connor’s cock. The warmth and pressure made Connor moan a little too loud for his self-esteems liking. When Hank started to stroke Connor, he was captivated by the younger man’s flushed cheeks and desperate moans.

The sight in front of his was more than enough for his pants to become uncomfortable. Trying to relieve some pressure, Hank took himself out. He didn’t realize Connor was staring until he looked back at his face. Hank stopped moving his hand and stared back at Connor, “You okay? We can stop if you want. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

But that wasn’t the problem at all instead, Connor sat up and placed his hands on Hank’s chest, pushing him back. His desire to touch, to taste pushing him toward licking the head of Hank’s cock; the taste of his precum was deliciously salty and Connor wanted more.

As Connor’s lips closed around his head, Hank groaned and stroked Connor’s hair, praising him, “Fuck… Good boy.”  
The vibrations of Connor’s moan ran through his cock. Noticing that Connor clearly liked being told how good he was, Hank let him take his time and explore at his own pace as he praised him. Connor’s technique was inexperienced but the feeling of his lips and tongue dragging over Hank’s cock was still perfect.

When Hank managed to pry his eyes open, he was met by sweet, lust-filled brown eyes in return. He used his finger tips to stroke and gently scratch at Connor’s head. His mind was still trying to catch up with the fact that Connor was with him at all. When Connor pulled off and ran his tongue from Hank’s grey hair covered balls to the leaking head, Hank couldn’t help but groan, “God, you’re gorgeous. So fucking perfect… You feel so good, baby.”

Before he could finish, Hank gently pushed Connor off and had him lay down again. He spent a minute just looking at Connor and taking in the beauty in front of him before a needy little whine of, “Hank, please. Please, touch me.” Broke his trance.

Hank wasted no more time before starting his mission of kissing down Connor’s body, impatiently pushing his t-shirt out of the way. With one hand stroking his own, Hank started to slowly kiss and lick at Connor’s cock.

Having his first blow job, Connor knew he wasn’t going to last long. It only took a few minutes of Hank sucking and licking with just the perfect amount of pressure before he whimpered, “I’m c-close…”

Instead of pulling off, Hank sucked harder until he felt Connor’s cock twitch and fill his mouth and throat with come. With Connor moans quieting and his twitching stilling, Hank started to jerk off, still needing release. It wasn’t long before Hank painted Connor’s softening cock with his own come, a long groan escaping his lips.

Letting Connor catch his breath and relax, Hank went to the bathroom to get a towel. He cleaned himself before bringing it out to Connor so he could get clean. After they were clean and back in a proper state of dress, Connor started to move but a harsh wince stopped him. Hank noticed and asked, “Stomach bothering you again?”

But it wasn’t his stomach, it was the sharp sting in his ribs. He shook his head and answered, “Chest.”

Hank was immediately on high alert, “Lay down, okay?” With Connor relaxing on the couch, Hank went to Connor’s mostly empty kitchen and got him pain killers and water along with two plates and napkins for their pizza. Back in the living room, Hank gave Connor the pills and arranged them so Connor’s head was on his lap.

Hank was mindlessly stroking Connor’s slightly mussed up hair until the young man spoke up, “Hank?” With a grunt in reply, Connor asked, “Do you think being gay is wrong?”

That is an… unexpected question. Chuckling he answered, “I just had your dick in my mouth. So, no.” He was smiling until he realized something horrible, “…Wait… do you?”

Shyly shrugging, Connor mumbled, “That’s all I’ve ever been told.”

Continuing to stroke Connor’s hair Hank tried to help, “Ain’t nothing wrong with loving who you want. Better than hating them. You’re allowed to want, love, fuck or be with whoever you want.”

That’s when Connor looked at him with the most honest, eager, wanting eyes Hank’s ever seen and said, “I want you.”

Before Hank could completely fall in love, the doorbell rang, signaling them that their pizza had arrived.

While Hank got it, Connor worked on sitting up without being in pain. Finally it was pizza time. When Connor took the first bite of the steaming cheese, delicious sauce and thick crust, he couldn’t contain the moan that ripped out of his throat, “Oh my god!”

Hank chuckled and took his own bite, “Can’t help but feel like the pizza is better than I was.”

Shrugging Connor casually said, “It is pretty good.”

Playfully elbowing Connor on his still bare shoulder, Hank good-naturedly shook his head, “You’re such a shit.”

After finishing their dinner, Hank stood up and started to put his regular clothes back on, “I should get going. Take it easy so you don’t hurt yourself. I’ll text you later.”

After a kiss and a few more, Connor finally let go of Hank but not before pouting. But a kiss on his forehead turned that frown upside down. They both fell asleep with a smile on their faces that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Faith by Sleeping At Last
> 
> It's my headcanon that android or not, Connor hates wearing underwear.


	8. Sorrow

A few days passed up since their little hook-up. There has been flirting at work, a few times they’d hung out which technically weren’t dates but had been fun regardless. Everything was going okay with cases and their personal lives until the middle of September when one Tuesday, Connor didn’t show up for work. After being a few hours late, Hank started to really worry and decided to text him.

**Hank : 10:03 AM**

‘Hey, you alright?'

**Connor : 10:14 AM**

‘Taking a personal day.’

**Hank : 10:16 AM**

‘Good. You deserve it.’

With his worry curbed for the moment, Hank started to get through some paperwork from recent cases. With his nose in his work, he didn’t notice how late it had gotten until his stomach started to rumble. Hank decided to text Connor again.

**Hank : 1:20 PM**

‘Taking my lunch now. You want anything?’

**Connor : 1:25 PM**

‘No thank you.’

**Hank : 1:30 PM**

‘Want to meet up for a bit?’

**Connor : 1:45 PM**

‘I’d rather be alone.’

 

That… made his stress spike. It wasn’t often that Connor didn’t want to be with him.

 

**Hank : 1:46 PM**

‘What’s going on?’

 

When he didn’t get an answer, Hank texted him again before grabbing his coat and keys to walk out to his cruiser.

 

**Hank : 1:50 PM**

‘Come on, baby. I’m worried about you.’

 

Looking up from his spot on the ground, Connor stared with teary eyes at the light grey headstone in front of him. Speaking softly, “Want to meet Hank, mom?" Knowing it was the right thing to do, Connor answered,

 

**Connor : 1:53 PM**

‘Hillside Cemetery. Willow Lane.’

 

Immediately stepping on the gas, Hank’s worry drove him towards the gates of the small, quiet cemetery outside of the city limits. As he navigated through the small winding roads in the cemetery. He stopped when he saw Connor’s small red sedan parked on one side of the small road.

When he stepped out of the car and felt the cold wind, Hank grabbed an extra jacket out of the trunk, knowing Connor would be cold. Turns out he was right, Connor was sitting with his legs crossed in front of a head stone. Slowly walking up behind him, Hank draped the jacket over Connor’s shoulders and sat next to him. Finally he read what was written on the stone, ‘Maria Allen. Loving mother, devoted wife.’

Through his sniffles, Connor mumbled, “It’s her birthday.”

Hank’s heart completely shattered for him as he wrapped his warm arms around Connor, pulling him close and soothingly rubbing his back. Being horribly familiar with the grief of losing somebody you love, Hank let them sit in silence until Connor chose to speak.

After a while, he did, “She would have liked you.” The admission was quiet and shy but honest and heartfelt all the same. They were quiet again until the dam broke in Connor. The sobs ripped through his chest and throat as tears streamed down his face. Hank could only hold him tighter and try to comfort him with gentle, calming words. Connor had his fingers tightly wound in his hair, roughly pulling on it. Hank had to gently guide his hands away from his head so Connor couldn’t hurt himself.

Still fighting the sobs, Connor managed to cry, “She used to tell me that people come into our lives for a reason but they leave for a reason too. But what happened to her… there’s no reason. She died for no reason.”

When he finally calmed down, Connor managed to pull a picture out of his wallet; it was a pretty young woman with long light brown hair and happy, smiling eyes in a dress holding a baby wrapped in a blue blanket.

Hank could only think of how much Connor looked like his mother. Gently taking the photo, Hank stared at it longingly, “Do you think you could tell me a little about her?”

Needing to take a few deep breaths first, Connor started to list off what he could remember, “She was the opposite of my father. She was so kind and soft. She was my best friend, always supporting me and encouraging me. She was the best mom in the whole world. She hated roses and diamonds. She loved fish, we had a fish tank with different tropical fish and we would spend hours watching them and talking.”

Hank quietly listened until Connor was done. He took his partner’s hand and supportively squeezed it, “She sounds wonderful, I wish I could have met her.”

As they sat in the cool fall weather, Connor’s tears started to dry. Wanting to be closer to Hank, Connor buried his face in Hank’s neck; finding comfort in the familiar smell of Hank’s soap and aftershave. After letting himself be held and calmed, Connor realized how late it was getting, “Do you have to get back to work?”

Hank looked at his watch and cursed under his breath, “Shit, yeah… Are you going to be okay here?”

“Yes, Hank.”

Before Hank got up, he softly kissed Connor’s temple and took a deep breath, “Call me if you need me and I’ll be there, okay?”

After watching Hank drive away, Connor spent a long time with his mom; talking to her about Hank and his new job and how David had been recently. He knew that his mom would have been disappointed in how her husband was treating their son but proud of how Connor was doing; he just wished that he could hear it.

After a long goodbye, Connor went to his apartment and took a page out of Hank’s book and poured himself a glass out of his newly purchased whiskey bottle before texting Hank.

 

**Connor : 4:37 PM**

‘Just letting you know that I’m home now.’

**Hank : 4:52 PM**

‘Thanks for letting me know. Do you need anything?’

**Connor : 5:00 PM**

‘No, I’m okay. I think I’d like to be alone tonight.’

**Hank : 5:02 PM**

'I understand, I’ll see you tomorrow.’

**Connor : 5:03 PM**

‘I’ll see you tomorrow, thank you for everything. Goodnight, Hank’

 

Connor was thankful that he had Hank. For the first time since her death, he didn’t spend his mother’s birthday alone. For the first time, he had somebody next to him. For the first time, he had somebody who understood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorrow by Sleeping At Last
> 
> Another short chapter. Sorry!


	9. Take Me To Church

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some finals-stress-fueled-horribly-written smut!

Leaving work on Friday, Hank nudged Connor’s arm with his shoulder, “Hey so, I know things with us have been… changing.” That pulled a shy smile out of Connor who blushed, thinking back to the other night. Hank continued, “I just thought, you know, you deserve better than a hook up with some old guy on his couch. I’d like to take you out on a real date.”

The smile that Connor gave Hank could have blinded the sun, “I’d love that.” All Connor wanted to do was wrap his arms around Hank and kiss him but when he looked around, there was too many coworkers around.

Hank was fighting the same urge so instead of grabbing Connor the way he wanted to, he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, “How about tonight? I’ll pick you up and we can grab some dinner? Seven o’clock?”

Later that night, Hank knocked on Connor’s apartment door at seven wearing his black jacket and his navy blue button up with the white pattern on it. When Connor opened the door he smiled and immediately wrapped his arms around Hank’s waist and tightly hugged him.

Hank smiled and put a hand on the side of Connor’s face, gently pulling him away before softly kissing him and whispering against his lips, “Hey, you.”

After Connor pulled on his jacket on over his white button up, they headed out into Hank’s car. With one of his hands wrapped around Connor’s fit thigh, Hank drove to the small, more casual steak restaurants in town. As they sat across from each other, Connor listened to Hank talk about his experiences and something Connor is always excited to hear about, which are stories of Cole; baby stories, birthdays, funny stories, sadder stories. One of his favorites so far was the day Hank brought Sumo home. Everything about it was happy; Cole’s reaction to the bubbly puppy, Sumo’s first bath, the way Hank’s eyes lit up when he talked about it.

Their dinner passed without incident and they were all smiles as they started to drive back to Connor’s apartment. However, Connor squeezed Hank’s hand and mumbled, “You know… it’s still early.”

Hank didn’t bother to fight the smirk that took over his face or the chuckle that came after, “My house?” After Connor’s eager nod, Hank took the left to get to his house instead of continuing to Connor’s apartments.

After giving an over excited Sumo some affection, Hank decided that it was Connor’s turn. Slipping his hands around Connor’s waist and letting one rest on the small of his back and the other on his hip, he was happy to keep things slow but tonight, Connor had other plans. The younger man broke their kiss and looked up at Hank with sweet, lustful eyes and shyly said, “Hank… I would like to have sex with you.”

Trying to pull his last few brain cells together, Hank stroked Connor’s hair and tried not to sound too excited, “Alright, why don’t you get yourself ready?”

With Connor in the bathroom, Hank refilled Sumo’s food and water bowls after letting him out into the back yard. With the big dog back inside, Hank spent a few minutes petting him, feeling a bit guilty, “Be a good boy tonight, I promise I’ll take you out to the park tomorrow.”

Back in his bedroom, Hank had time to clean up a bit before Connor walked in, looking a lot more uncertain than he did a few minutes ago. Trying to calm him down, Hank pulled him into a hug before starting to kiss at Connor’s neck. Hearing the soft, breathy moans escape his partner’s lips, Hank felt better about starting to unbutton Connor’s shirt before slipping it off his shoulders.

Feeling Hank’s big, warm hand on his bare torso and his praise of, “You’re so perfect." Connor whimpered and let Hank lead him over to the bed. After stripping themselves out of the rest of their clothes, they both took to the task of showering each other with affection.

With Connor’s hands grabbing at his soft stomach and his lips kissing on Hank’s neck, the older man reached into his bedside table and grabbed his fairly unused bottle of lube.

After moving Connor so he was lounging against the pillows, Hank moved between his legs and started to warm up some lube on his fingers, “Alright Con, I’m going to go slow. Try to relax, okay?”

As Hank kissed Connor’s thighs and cock, Hank slowly started to rub a finger around his rim, giving him a minute to relax before slowly pushing his finger in centimeter by centimeter. As his thick finger stretched out Connor’s hole, he subconsciously tensed up.

Pausing for a minute, Hank tried to soothe him, “You need to relax or it’s going to hurt. Take a deep breath for me.” After a shaky breath escaped Connor’s lips, Hank took his softening cock into his mouth, gently sucking on it as he kept working his finger into the tight ring of muscles.

Connor tried to relax into the sensations of Hank’s thick finger starting to rub against his prostate, the feeling of Hank’s tongue massaging and sucking on his almost embarrassingly soft dick. Letting out a small moan, he relaxed enough for Hank to add another finger. Hank’s praise, “There you go, good boy.” Only made it easier for him to calm his nerves.

Hank easily got distracted with the way Connor squirmed, his honey-sweet and desperate moans, the way the he beautifully took Hank’s thick fingers until he had three buried in him.

When they both decided Connor was ready, Hank pulled his fingers out and rolled on a condom before coating his hard cock with lube.

Watching Hank get ready, Connor couldn’t help but get tense and anxious because this was actually happening. His mind was constantly screaming, _‘Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.'_

The cycle only stopped when Hank moved so he was hovering over Connor and asked, “Are you good?”

Connor couldn’t stop his voice from wavering with anticipation, “Y-yes.”

Taking himself into his hand, Hank lined himself up and slowly pushed the head of his cock into Connor’s tight hole.

Connor latched his arms around Hank’s neck with his eyes clamped shut and his breathing growing heavy. Remembering the first (and only) time somebody fucked him, Hank tried to soothe Connor’s whimpers by stroking his thumb over Connor’s cheek and reassuring him, “Deep breaths. I’m right here, baby.”

Keeping his arms tightly holding the small man under him, Hank slowly started to move his hips still trying to let Connor adjust.

As they continued and it became easier for Hank to start thrusting into the tight heat, it started to feel better for Connor; who’s cock started to fill out again.

It didn’t take long for Hank to lose himself in the vice-like grip of Connor’s heat as Connor desperately moved his hips seeking friction on his cock and deeper thrusts.

They built up a rhythm until Connor’s sniffles and wet cheeks quickly stopped everything. Hank’s hips abruptly stopped in fear that he had hurt Connor. Panicking, he caressed Connor’s face and worriedly asked, “Con? Hey, talk to me. What’s going on in this head of yours?”

Thankfully, nothing was wrong. Instead, Connor smiled through his tears and kissed Hank’s cheek before admitting, “I’m so happy.”

After wiping those tears away, Hank pushed back into Connor and praised him, “You’re so good, baby. So fucking perfect.”

Connor arched his back and gripped onto Hank, who reached between them to wrap a large hand around Connor’s smaller, leaking cock. After stroking Connor and fucking him in a perfect rhythm, Connor threw his head back and moaned as he came on his stomach.

The gorgeous sight in front of him was too much for Hank to handle especially after trying so hard not to come for the last ten minutes, he came with a groan s he buried himself inside Connor.

After catching their breath, Hank grabbed a towel from the bathroom and cleaned himself off before bringing it out to Connor. When they were both clean, Connor laid his cheek on Hank’s hairy chest and looked at him with big brown eyes.

As Hank soothingly stroked Connor’s mussed up hair he asked, “So? How was your first time?”

Connor sleepily smiled, “Perfect.” In his mind, all he could think of was, _‘I’m so lucky.’_

Hank knew he didn’t deserve the complete look of love in Connor’s eyes but as Connor fell asleep, Hank couldn’t help but smile and know, **‘I’m so fucking lucky.’**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take Me To Church by Hozier


	10. I'll Keep You Safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Unintentional (?) self-harm

Over the next weeks, Hank and Connor spent more and more time together. It wasn’t always about sex or even kissing. Somedays Hank needs somebody to tell him not to drink himself to death and Connor needs somebody to remind him to relax. On the other hand, there are some days where there isn’t one part of them that isn’t being touched or kissed. Connor was starting to become more comfortable and confident in his sexuality and Hank was happier and slowly becoming healthier with Connor’s constant influence.

One night around three in the morning, Hank’s ringing phone woke him up. Rolling over, he pushed his still partly damp grey hair out of his face and answered the phone with an exhausted grunt, “What?”

Even though he didn’t look at the caller I.D, the second he heard the broken voice on the other side, Hank knew it was Connor, “H-Hank… I need you.”

Hearing his sobs, Hank was instantly awake, “What’s going on?”

Connor’s breathing was hard and labored but his words were still understandable, “I can’t—I can’t stop.”

Completely forgetting about sleep, Hank pulled on his pants and quickly walked to his front door where he tugged his black jacket on over his pajamas. He tried to get information out of Connor as he put on his shoes, “Take a deep breath. What’s going on?”

With keys in hand, Hank jumped into his car and took off down the street, trying his best to calm his boyfriend. Making it to the apartments in record time, Hank ran up the stairs two at a time and used the key Connor gave him to open the front door. He called out into the apartment, “Connor?!”

Hearing water running, Hank ran to the bathroom where Connor was standing by the sink in his boxers and t-shirt. His sobs shook his whole body but the more concerning thing was his hands; they were bright red from being scrubbed continuously under the burning hot water.

Quickly grabbing Connor’s arms, Hank pulled them out of the water and grabbed a towel to dry them off. “You have to stop. Take a deep breath. I’m right here.”, he tried to get Connor to look at him and calm down but Connor wouldn’t stop crying and scratching and rubbing his arms.

Noticing that his usually soft, pale arms were covered in scratches and blood. Still deep in his panic, Connor was begging, “Get it off, get it off, get it off!”

Carefully holding his sore arms, Hank wrapped them in the towel again before folding them against Connor’s chest and pulling him into his chest, reassuring him, “There’s nothing on your hands, baby. You’re okay.”

When Connor looked up at Hank, the low light of the bathroom made Connor’s horribly sad eyes and the dark circles underneath the, that much more obvious. The tears staining his cheeks broke Hank’s heart but the words that came out of his mouth made Hank’s stomach drop to his feet, “I should have saved her. Should have… I should have… saved her.”

Slowly rocking Connor in his strong arms, they stayed in that bathroom until Connor’s breathing started to even out. Hank kissed his head, “Let’s go lay down, okay?”

Feeling completely numb and exhausted, Connor nodded and followed Hank into the bedroom where Hank held Connor tightly against his body, until he fell asleep. Relief flooded through Hank when he finally had his boyfriend safely in his arms. Eventually, Hank joined him in an almost peaceful sleep.

The next morning when Connor woke up, he pried his exhausted eyes open and found that Hank was still next to him and already awake. As he looked into Hank’s worried blue eyes, he couldn’t clamp down on the feeling of shame that filled his chest, “I’m really sorry about last night. I haven’t had a nightmare like that in a long time and when I woke up… I couldn’t stop panicking. I could feel her blood on me and I… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, I know how it is. I still have nightmares about pulling Cole out of my car.” Hank knew that they both needed a hug so he pulled Connor close and soothingly rubbed his back, “What happened to your mother wasn’t your fault. You were just a kid, Con.”

As Connor quietly absorbs what Hank was saying, his own arms tried to squeeze his love into Hank.  
Pulling them out of their peaceful bubble, Connor’s phone rang. Rolling over, he saw it was his father and answered but before he could say anything, his father’s angry voice came through the phone, “Where are you?”

After taking a deep breath and reminding himself, _‘It’s part of the rebellion.’_ Connor answered, “With Lieutenant Anderson.”

Following a bitter laugh, Allen continued, “Strange, since neither of you are at work. Your shift should have started three hours ago. I would hope that Lieutenant Anderson isn’t having a negative effect on you.”

That ignited the fire of anger in Connor’s chest. His father doesn’t have the right to talk about Hank like that; Hank has made him happier in the last few months than his father had in years, “He’s not, we are technically on call.”

Their conversation ended with Captain Allen snapping, “Be in work on time tomorrow.”

After David hung up on him, Connor tossed his phone across the room. Having heard their whole conversation, Hank chuckled, “I thought we decided that I was a bad influence on you?”

Connor sweetly kissed him and whispered against his lips, “You are but there’s nothing negative about that.”

Spending another minute together, Hank patted Connor’s back and nudged him up, “Why don’t you take a shower and get ready for work? I’ll make us some breakfast.”

As Connor started to get himself ready for the day, Hank did his best with Connor’s bare kitchen; making coffee and toast. When Connor came into the kitchen, his hair had been fixed and his uniform was perfectly in place. Hank could feel the air being knocked out of his lungs as he walked towards Connor, “Have I ever told you how handsome you look in your uniform?”

The pretty pink blush that covered Connor’s cheeks was just one thing in the seemingly endless list of things that Hank loves about him. Connor looked down at his feet and mumbled, “No…”

With one hand on Connor’s lower back, Hank pulled him close with a predatory look in his eyes, “What a shame. You’re so gorgeous, baby.”

Knowing where this was going by the look on Hank’s face, Connor coyly said, “…Hank, we have to get to work.”

With Hank’s big hands trailing slowly down towards his ass, Hank kissed his neck, “Fuck work.”

Connor moved so he could bring their lips together. However, for the second time that morning, a phone interrupted them. Only this time it was officer Ben Collins calling Hank, “Sorry to bother you, Lieutenant. There’s been a homicide at Eden Club.”

Rubbing a hand over his face, Hank groaned, “Awesome. Be there asap. Don’t let Reed fuck with my crime scene.”  
Hank and Connor left for Hank’s house so the Lieutenant could get dressed. As Hank pulled on his well-worn uniform, Connor played with and took care of Sumo. When they were ready, Hank drove them in his personal car since their cruiser was at the station.

Inside of Eden Club, Hank and Connor started to take statements and collect evidence. One of the entertainers brought a patron back into a private room for a dance but when he started to get aggressive and pulled a knife on her when she tried to leave, the dancer pushed him away causing him to fall backwards and hit his head hard on the edge of a table. He was dead in minutes.

Connor was sitting with the crying woman who was wrapped in a blanket, trying to comfort her. When she asked, “Am I going to be arrested?” Connor’s answer was, “No.” but Detective Gavin Reed’s answer was, “Maybe.”

Connor’s brown eyes shot daggers at Gavin because you can’t say that to somebody who was a victim. Turning back to the young woman, Connor tried to give her a reassuring smile, “This was self-defense. Anybody can see that.”

When Ben came back with a spare change of sweats that they keep in the back of the car, he helped the dancer out to his car so they could bring her to the station for some more questions.

As soon as the victim was no longer in the room, Gavin got in Connor’s face, “Listen, rookie. You don’t know what you’re doing so why don’t you fuck off?”

Connor wanted to punch that stupid scar right off Gavin’s face so when he started to walk away, Connor harshly shoved him and spat, “Don’t be such an asshole.”

Spinning around, Gavin grabbed Connor’s collar and pulled him closer, growling into Connor’s face, “Did you just fucking push me?”

In an uncharacteristic display of anger, Connor slammed his fist into Gavin’s stomach, leading Gavin to swing back. Only he hit Connor in the face.

By the time other officers, including Hank, pulled them away from each other, they were both ready to kill each other. Gavin took one more lunge towards Connor and threatened, “I’m watching you, asshole.”

With a strong protective hand, Hank shoved Gavin away and dismissed him, “Take a fucking hike, Reed.”

Hank almost laughed at how Connor was posed with his chin up and his chest puffed up as he bowed up to Gavin. It was honestly a nice change of pace but he couldn’t say that in front of everyone so Hank led Connor outside. When they were in the car, Hank took a deep breath and tried to be Connor’s superior for a second, “Not saying that Reed doesn’t deserve it but you can’t just get into fights at crime scenes, okay?”

Nodding in understanding, Connor replied, “Yes, Hank. I’m sorry.”

Back to being his boyfriend, Hank gently touched the blossoming red spot on Connor’s cheek, “Is your face okay?”

Brushing it off like it was just from the cold, Connor smirked, “Yeah, Gavin punches like a bitch.”

Chuckling from deep in his belly, Hank started up his car and turned up the heat, “Come on, we have to go write a report.”

Even though Gavin immediately went to bitch to Captain Fowler, he did little more than just giving Connor a light slap on the wrist. The rest of their day passed without incident as they closed some cases and filled out paper work. Staying a little late, they finished up their work and headed home.

As Hank started to cook dinner, Connor took Sumo on a walk after bundling up in Hank’s warm, thick coat.  
Dinner was warm chili, which was perfect as the first snowfall of the year started to pick up outside. Noticing how Connor’s tired brown eyes were starting to drift closed during dinner, Hank decided it was his turn to do the dishes. He kissed Connor’s cheek and patted his pajama covered butt, “Pick a movie, Con. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Connor had every intention of picking a movie for them to watch but the second his head hit a pillow, he was fast asleep. When Hank saw Connor with his face mushed against the pillow and soft snores escaping his lips along with drool, he couldn’t help but softly smile and stroke Connor’s hair back.

Deciding to clean and get some more work done, Hank covered Connor with a blanket and switched off the T.V. Getting paperwork done was a lot easier with Sumo sitting at his feet and Connor’s quiet snores filling the house… which was starting to feel like a home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll Keep You Safe by Sleeping At Last
> 
> **** By the way, any feedback so far would be greatly appreciated!****


	11. Anger

On October eleventh, Hank got drunk. Violently, horribly, grossly drunk. With more than half a bottle of Blank Lamb whiskey gone, Hank picked up his phone and called Connor who answered after the second ring, “Hello, Hank. Are you okay?”

His slurred voice sounded sweet for a moment, “Have I—Have I ever told you that you’re pretty?”

But Connor saw right through the words. Worry and a bit of anger blossomed in his chest when he asked, “Are you drunk?”

A sick snicker escaped Hank’s throat, “Fucking smashed.”

Connor sighed disapprovingly and set down the wooden spoon he was stirring the beginnings of his dinner with, “I thought we were going to work on you cutting back on drinking?”

And sweet, loving, familiar Hank was gone. In his place was the angry shell of a man, “My kid fucking died today. I needed a fucking drink. Got a problem with that?!”

Trying to placate Hank to calm him, Connor kept his voice neutral, “No but we have an important meeting tomorrow regarding the Red Ice division.”

That only threw Hank further into his rage, “Is the job all you care about?! Cole fucking died!”

Connor tried not to take things personally, he knew Hank was suffering. He just didn’t know how to help so again he dropped his voice, “I know, Hank. We talked about it earlier. I offered to come home with you. Would you like me to come over now? I’ll be there if you need me.”

And Hank just had to go and take it too far, “Oh fuck off, Mr. Perfect.”

Being done with Hank’s drunk, bitter words, Connor managed to grit out, “Hank, please get some rest. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Goodnight.”

It was soon after the bitter call that Hank blacked out; only waking up the next day to Sumo’s incessant barking. Prying his sleep- crusted eyes open, Hank blearily looked around realizing he had passed out on the couch with all his clothes on and not only that but it was almost two in the afternoon. The only thing that was worse were the two texts from Connor.

 

**Connor : 11:45 AM**

‘The meeting with the Red Ice division went well.’

**Connor : 11:48 AM**

‘In case you cared.’

 

 **‘You fucked up. You fucked up the one good thing you have right now. You better go grovel and beg for forgiveness.’** With his thoughts taunting him, Hank threw on his clothes and tried to make himself look presentable before flying in his car to the station.

Inside the DPD, nobody gave the old Lieutenant a second glance, especially not Connor, who barely gave him a first one at all. All the young officer did was glance up at Hank for a second and coldly greeted him, “Hello, Lieutenant.”

**‘Oh shit, you REALLY fucked up.’**

Sitting down at his desk, Hank immediately apologized, his anxiety still sitting heavy in his chest, “I’m sorry I got that drunk last night and missed our meeting.”

When Connor’s eyes met his, they weren’t the same soft, loving eyes Hank had gotten used to; they were cold and hard but Hank could see through the anger. He knew Connor was hurt and his words only confirmed that with their broken edge, “You don’t remember what you said, do you?”

As hard as he tried, the whiskey muddled his memories to the point where anything after their call was lost. Knowing he didn’t remember Connor pulled up a voicemail on his phone and threw it at Hank with maybe a bit too much force. When Hank pressed it to his ear and listened all he heard was his own stupid, drunk voice, “Hey! I wasn’t done with our conversation! You—you don’t know! You don’t fucking know what it’s like to lose a child! You’re just a fucking kid yourself! Don’t even know why I’m with you… dumb fucking kid.”

Hank could feel the tears starting to ting his eyes as he croaked out, “Connor… I’m so sorry."

From his desk, Ben Collins looked over at them with a suspicious look but it quickly faded. Wanting to avoid prying eyes, Hank handed Connor his phone back and suggested, “Let’s go talk outside?”

When Connor shook his head, Hank tried again in a whisper, “Baby, please—”

But Connor didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to be called baby. He didn’t want to be held or coddled or apologized to. He wanted to be angry, “No!”

With curious eyes on them again, only this time from multiple people, Hank decided to drop it for the moment. As they continued with their work, it started to worry Hank how calm Connor looked. Did he go too far? Was Connor already done with his drunkenness? Had he already lost Connor?

When they got a call, the drive was silent besides them sharing a few words about the case and what they were walking into. At the crime scene, Connor immediately walked away from Hank, not saying a word until it was time to leave.

Back at the station, Connor started to walk away but Hank grabbed his hand, keeping him in place. Hank’s voice was desperate and scared, “Connor, please. You know why I’m with you. You make my life better… you make me better.”

Connor adverted his eyes and ignored Hank, the feeling of anger subsiding when he saw the devastated look in Hank’s eyes. He felt Hank’s warm hands cradling his red, wind-bitten cheeks. As Hank ran his thumb across Connor’s cheek bone, he spoke softly in the voice he always had when they spent quiet, peaceful hours together in bed, “Are you hearing me? I love you.”

Those three words got Connor to pause. Nobody had told him that since his mother died. They were the last words she said to him. She said them with the same certainty that Hank just had.

The last bit of fight left Connor as he looked into the scared blue of Hank’s eyes and said, “I love you too.”

Wrapping his arms around Connor, Hank hugged him close and tried to take deep breaths to will the anxiety away. He spoke into Connor’s hair loud enough for the younger man to hear, “I’m so sorry I hurt you. I just… break down sometimes. I’m really sorry, baby.”

As they pulled away Connor’s hands rested on Hank’s chest, his voice was small and tired from the emotional whiplash, “I just want you to let me help you.”

“I know and I am so sorry.” Not wanting to wait any longer, Hank pulled Connor in for a soft kiss, not caring who saw in the DPD parking lot.

Neither of them cared until they heard a familiar voice; one that was laced with disgust and hatred, “What the hell are you doing?!”

Quickly breaking apart, they both turned around to see Captain Allen in a stunned state. With both Hank and Connor struggling for words, Allen only got angrier as he snapped, “Answer me! What the fuck are you doing?!”

Surprisingly, Connor was the first to speak up. There was years of pent up emotions and venom in his words, “It’s not like you’ve ever cared about me before. Why do you care now?!”

“Because my son is a faggot who’s fucking his superior!”

With that one sentence, Connor visibly broke; his posture crumbled, his eyes filled with tears, the anger morphed into hurt, and if you listened hard enough you could hear his heart of gold shatter.

Needing to protect his boyfriend from any kind of harm but not wanting to escalate things further Hank spoke up, “Leave him alone.”

But when Allen took an aggressive step towards his son, Hank stepped between them and growled, “I told you to leave him alone.”

The captain got into Hank’s face and pointed an accusatory finger at him, “I’m going to have your badge, you fucking pervert.”

He started to walk away but when he was a few feet away, he stopped and turned to face Connor, “You’re not my son. Not anymore.”

As hard as he tried, Connor couldn’t stop the tears from spilling over as he admitted, “I never was.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anger by Sleeping At Last


	12. You Are Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aye so life is crazy right now and my writing is definitely suffering. I'm sorry but have a fluffy chapter of everyone's favorite gay cops.

“Hank, you know why we have to have this conversation. It’s inappropriate for you to be in any kind of relationship, other than professional, with a coworker.” Hank nodded at Captain Fowler’s words, dreaded what was coming next. He was well and truly fucked and dreading that Connor was too. However, Fowler’s next sentence surprised Hank, “That being said, I’ve known you for a very long time and just in the past month you’ve been less of an asshole. Just… no PDA and don’t let this affect your work.”

Snapping his head up in surprise, Hank was sure he must have looked comical with his eyes wide and mouth hanging open. He had no idea what possessed him to ask, “That’s it?”

Already turning his attention back to clearly more important matters of the stacks of paperwork on his desk, Fowler noncommittally shrugged and answered, “Yeah. You need a young thing in your life to keep you honest and Connor is a good kid.”

Still in a state of shock and confusion, Hank nodded and carried himself out of Fowler’s office and back to his and Connor’s desks. Connor was anxiously sitting on the edge of his seat and biting his nails (an anxious tic that Hank was constantly reminding him not to do). When Hank walked back over, he moved his hand away from his mouth and asked, “So? What did he say?” meaning, _‘Are we keeping our jobs?’_

Wanting to calm his nervous boyfriend, Hank kept his voice as level as possible as he repeated Fowler's general consensus on the issue, “He told us to keep it out of work.” Connor’s face visibly relaxed so Hank decided to ask the same thing he's been asking for days, “You doing okay?”

Connor shrugged and brushed him off (again), “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” It had been a few days since Captain Allen saw them kissing and since then he hasn’t spoken to Connor, however today was the day Allen's complaint made it's way to the top of Fowler's desk. Along with his father's financial support has stopping, so had any communication from other family members.

Hank dropped his voice so the whole station wouldn’t know Connor’s business, “Because your family completely cut you off from their lives?”

Wanting to seem unaffected, Connor straightened his posture and almost smirked, “I’m glad.”

But Hank knew better, the sadness in his boyfriend's eyes was unmistakeable. He shot Connor a knowing look and resisted the urge to shake his head before starting again, “Connor…”

Connor’s usually warm brown eyes turned hard as ice as he snapped, “I’m fine, Hank.”

Putting his hands up in surrender, Hank mumbled, “Okay, baby.” Internally rolling his eyes, Hank thought, **‘Yup… you’re totally fine.’**

A few days later in the beginning of November, Connor knocked on Hank’s door to spend the rest of their night together. Just like the days before, Connor was acting like everything was okay but Hank could see right through it. Still, Hank decided to ignore it because he knew Connor didn’t want to talk about it.

Joining Connor on the couch, it didn’t take Hank long to end up with a lapful of his boyfriend. As they kissed, Hank could tell that something was off; Connor kissed him a little too hard, gripped his arms too tight, took everything a little too fast when he usually wanted them to take their time.

Gently holding Connor’s cheek, Hank pulled away and softly rubbed his thumb over Connor’s cheek, “Con, I know you. I can tell something is wrong. Your father said some horribly hurtful things to you and stopped talking to you. It’s okay to be upset.”

Harshly pulling away from Hank, Connor’s fluctuated between anger and being completely offended. He snapped at Hank, “I’m not upset!” Which is something that has almost never happened.

After Hank gave him his trademarked look of, ‘You’re being ridiculous’ Connor conceded defeat and huffed out a big sigh and pouted before admitting, “Okay… I’m upset. I’m just stressed. I make good money at the station but Detroit is expensive and my rent went up and now without the small amount of help my father gave me, I won’t be able to make my rent and… I’m just scared.”

All frustration left Hank’s body as he wrapped his arms around Connor’s hips and linked his fingers together on the small of Connor’s back, “Baby, why didn’t you say anything? You can stay here if you need to.”

Shyly looking up at Hank through his delicate eye lashes, Connor fidgeted, “Really?”

Still being slightly shocked that Connor wouldn’t have asked for some help, Hank pulled his boyfriend close against him, “Of course. You pretty much do anyway.”

Lunging forward, Connor tightly wrapped his arms around Hank’s neck and buried his face into the crook of his neck; the feeling of relief flooded through him as a heavy sigh. Pressing a kiss to the warm, exposed skin of Hank’s shoulder, Connor smiled against him and whispered, “I love you so much.”

Hank knew he made the right choice; anything that made Connor happy and safe was always the right choice. Holding Connor close against his body, Hank smiled back, “I love you too.”

By the next week, Connor’s clothes were on one side of Hank’s closet and taking up half his drawers. Anything else that was in his small apartment that they decided to keep had found it’s place in Hank’s house.

However, Hank and Connor weren’t the only two who were excited about the new living arrangement; Sumo had realized what was going on as he excitedly bounced around and played with Connor as Hank cooked their healthy dinner, per request of Connor.

With dinner hot on the table and Sumo's food bowl refilled, Hank called into the living room, “Alright, you two! Soups on.”

While they sat at the table to eat, Connor was clearly lost in his own head as he pushed his food around with his fork so Hank nudged his leg. When Connor met his eyes, he had a curious look on his face, much like a puppy. Hank smiled and tried to sound reassuring, “It’s going to be alright, Con.”

With the young detectives dejected look and meek response of, “Yeah…” Hank decided he needed to turn that frown upside down. Grabbing one of the fries off his plate, Hank threw it at Connor’s face. Shooting his head up, Connor had the most confused look as he asked, “Did you just… throw a fry at me?”

Hank shrugged and nonchalantly said, “Guess so.” Which irked Connor so he grabbed one of his own and hit Hank on the forehead with the greasy potato strip.

Needing to have the last laugh, Hank reached out and grabbed a handful of the steamed broccoli that Connor had asked for and threw it at his boyfriend.

Now with parts of the green vegetable sticking to his shirt and hair, Connor upped the steaks by grabbing his burger and chucked it at Hank, staining his skin, beard, and grey shirt with ketchup and grease.

What came next happened fast. Hank drenched Connor with his beer to which Connor returned the favor with a glass of water. Next was each of them grabbing either a bottle of ketchup or mustard and squirting the other with it.

When Hank turned around to shoo Sumo off the table, where he was eating what was left of their food, Connor snuck into the fridge and grabbed an egg that he promptly shoved down the back of Hank’s pants and smashed.

Feeling the broken shell and nasty goo of the egg on his ass, Hank roared, “Connor! God fucking damn it! When did you even get an egg?!”

Connor threw his arms in the air and cheered, “I win!” A huge smile spread over his face that lit up his previously sad brown eyes.

Smiling back at his beer, ketchup, and broccoli covered boyfriend, Hank laughed and shook his head, “Yeah, you’re a real winner. Come on, we need to shower.” They were a complete mess but Connor was laughing. **‘Mission accomplished.’**

Once they were stripped and in the shower, Connor embarked on the task of washing the sticky beer out of his hair. With his back turned to Hank and the water, Connor scrubbed the suds into his hair but when he turned back around he saw Hank standing under the warm water with one hand braced against the wall while the other washed the egg off his ass.

Not knowing Connor was watching, Hank startled when Connor chuckled, “Attractive, Lieutenant.”

Glaring at Connor, Hank contemplated drowning him on the spot. Instead he couldn’t help but smile at how ridiculous Connor looked with the white suds in his hair. With no bite to his words, Hank shook his head with a smile and said, “I swear to god, I’ll dump you.”

With them both clean and dry, Connor pulled on one of his old over sized t-shirts and nothing else. As Hank got changed, Connor kissed his cheek and looked at him with his warm brown eyes. With his voice full of love and adoration, he said, “Thank you.”

Hank knew why he was being thanked; it was nothing specific he did, it was just being there for him. Smiling back, Hank brushed it off but Connor knew the sentiment was shared even when Hank answered, “Whatever, you softie. Get your ass into the kitchen. We have to clean.” Punctuating his sentence with a firm slap on Connor’s ass. When Connor yelped and turned back to stick his tongue out at Hank before jogging out into the kitchen, Hank couldn’t help but think, **‘He’s a keeper.’**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You Are Enough by Sleeping At Last
> 
> Btw, 'greasy potato strip' is my mood for 2019


	13. Hearts Don't Break Around Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up; next chapter will be the last chapter! Thank you all for reading so far.

On Thursday December ninth, the wind was already starting to kick up before Hank and Connor even pulled themselves out of bed. With already three inches of snow on the ground, the forecast didn’t look like it was going away anytime soon. After Hank was dressed, he walked into the kitchen where Connor handed him a fresh cup of coffee with a smile and a kiss.

Actually leaving the house that morning was difficult with the temperature dropping to negative two degrees with the wind chill. It was strange when the police station was a welcome sight but compared to the icy hell of Detroit in the winter, any place with heating was an improvement.

They were only sitting at their desks for a bit before a call came in for the need of a homicide detective at a crime scene. At the small, decrepit house Hank talked to fellow officers about what may have set off this murder while Connor let his curiosity get the better of him. Leaving Hank’s side, Connor started to look through different rooms in the house; pausing when he saw the small corner of a black plastic bag poking out of the bottom of a closet. Upon opening it, kilos and kilos of Red Ice fell out of the closet.

Standing in shock, all Connor could think to do was call for Hank, “Lieutenant?!”

From where he was standing, Hank could hear the waver in Connor’s voice. His feet moved faster than usual until he was standing behind Connor with a steady hand on his back. He was concerned until he saw the wrapped packages of drugs, his worry turned into shock at how on earth these officers missed this. Dropping his hand from his boyfriend’s back, Hank called over his shoulder, “Hey, geniuses! Get over here! And call the Ice Task Force!”

Twenty minutes later, an experienced member of the Red Ice Task Force was collecting the evidence and patted Connor on the shoulder, “Good find, kid.” The way Connor beamed with pride made Hank’s heart happy.  
Back at the station while they were writing reports, Gavin Reed shyly walked over to them and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck before saying, “Hey… good job.”

The rest of the day went the same with people congratulating him until Fowler ended up at their desk. With a passing glance, Fowler patted Connor’s shoulder and said, “Good find, Connor. Hell of a birthday present.”

With Fowler long gone, both Hank and Connor froze with Hank’s blue eyes boring holes into Connor’s soul. When Connor tried to ignore what just happened, Hank harshly slapped the desk with both hands and yelled, “Hey!”

Connor snapped his head up and chipped back, “What?”

Hank looked offended as he asked, “It’s your birthday and you didn’t tell me?!”

Shrugging, Connor whispered, “It’s not a big deal.” His hands nervously played with a pen on his desk as he tried to deflect the attention.

Hank, however, had other plans, “Yeah, it is! Let’s go home and celebrate.” Hank’s hurt face quickly turned into happiness at the prospect of spending Connor’s birthday with him and making him happy.

While Connor was protesting, “Really, Hank. It doesn’t matter—” Hank stood up and just about dragged Connor out of the station. Holding the car door open for him, Hank gently pushed Connor into the car, “There you go. Come on, birthday boy.”

Once they got home, Connor was still trying to convince Hank to give it a rest. Rolling his eyes, Connor pulled off his jacket and kicked off his shoes, “Come on, Hank. This is unnecessary—”

With Hank’s strong hands leading him to the bathroom, Connor let himself be directed until he was standing in the middle of the bathroom with Hank starting to fill the tub. With the water still flowing, Hank kissed Connor’s cheek and lovingly said, “Take a bath, you smell like the dead guy’s house.”

The bathroom door shut with Hank on the other side and Connor standing shocked still. Eventually the perfectly-scorching-hot water was too good to resist. Stripping off his uniform, Connor happily slipped into the warm water that he had added bubble bath too (very manly. Very cop-like and intimidating. Definitely not lavender bubble bath.)

While Connor was submerged and relaxing with his eyes closed and a small radio playing from the sink, Hank snuck in and hung up Connor’s nice dark navy blue suit with a white button-up, clean socks and underwear. Closing the door behind himself, Hank was already on his phone making a reservation at a very nice restaurant across the city in a fairly wealthy area. While he was still on the phone, Hank quickly changed the sheets into the nice ones he rarely used to keep them free of sweat, dog hair, and usually whiskey.

With the thought of, **‘Oh God, I don’t have a gift for him. Shit…’** ran into his mind, Hank yelled to Connor, “I’ll be back in twenty minutes! Stay in the bath!” To make sure Connor didn’t come out too early, Hank took one of the kitchen chairs and wedged it under the bathroom doorknob.

Confusion and frustration rising in his voice, Connor yelled back, “Hank?! Where are you going?!” But with his boyfriend already halfway out the door he didn’t get an answer.

Driving around like a mad man, Hank first stopped to buy flowers before flying to the local firearm shop to buy Connor a new handgun that he’s been subtly eyeing for weeks; a Dan Wesson Guardian semiautomatic Centerfire pistol. The handgun was light and shot .45 caliber bullets. It had a black finish and a sleek, dark red grip.

While Hank was still at the store, Connor actually started to relax as he spent the time to lather himself and shave; for himself just as much as for Hank. Just as the water is starting to get too cold to be in much longer, Connor heard the front door opening and Hank’s chipper voice yelling, “I’m back!”

Shouting back, “Yay!” he stood up, wrapped himself in a fluffy towel and drained the tub. After he dried off and brushed his hair, Connor started to dress himself in the suit Hank left for him. After he was sure he looked immaculate for his boyfriend, Connor tried to open the door but was surprised when the door jammed. It took a minute of struggling and confusion before Connor questioned, “Hank? Why is the door locked?!”

The answer of, “Just a minute!” did nothing to soothe Connor’s anxiety. Hank was only trying to get himself dressed in a black shirt and a grey three piece suit he hadn’t worn in a long time.

As Hank battled his own stupid self-conscious thoughts, he heard Connor yell from across the hall, “Did you lock me in the bathroom on my birthday?!”

Before rescuing Connor, Hank threw his hair into a ponytail and grabbed the bouquet of red and white flowers before opening the bathroom door to find a very pissy looking Connor. That was until he saw Hank. With the sight of his older boyfriend looking so gorgeous and knowing how much effort he had put in, nothing could keep the warm smile off his face.

After Hank convincing Connor to keep his hands to himself for a little bit and actually leave the house to get dinner, they were driving in Hank’s Oldsmobile with the radio playing the usual rock station, when Connor reached over to turn it down, “You know you really don’t have to do this. My birthday really isn’t a big deal.”

Keeping his eyes firmly trained on the road, to ensure mostly Connor’s safety, he reminded Connor why both birthdays and careful driving were important, “I wish every year that Cole could have had another birthday. It’s a big deal to me. Let me spoil you a little.”

Finally understanding, Connor kissed the back of Hank’s hand and rested his head on the strong muscle of Hank’s upper arm and shoulder, enjoying the closeness and peace of their nice drive.

At the classy restaurant; complete with white table clothes, candles, and other fancy things that neither Connor or Hank were used to. As they sat down to eat, Connor ordered a glass of red wine for the first time and Hank ordered one beer. Over the course of their meal, Hank had stopped at the one beer but Connor had four glasses of wine.

Hank noticed it first. Connor’s pink cheeks. His giggles and slightly clumsy movements. His pretty brown eyes sparkled as he looked lovingly at Hank who asked, “You happy?”

“So happy!” Connor’s attention only stayed on Hank for a moment before he grabbed the forearm of an older woman who was walking by with her husband. With an excited smile he pointed to Hank and exclaimed, “He’s my boyfriend!”

After she recovered from the initial shock, the elderly woman patted Connor’s hand and smiled, “That’s nice, sweetie.”

On the other hand, Hank smacked his head off his hands in embarrassment before reaching over the table and taking away Connor’s wine glass, “Okay… there are some people who can’t drink wine. You, are one of those people.”

Pouting, Connor only fought for a minute, “But Hank! I’m having fun!” Soon, his smile was back full-force. It wasn’t long until Hank got the check and helped Connor put on his thick black jacket before kissing his cheek, “Come on, drunky. Let’s get you home.”

With Connor’s beautifully elegant fingers wrapped around Hank’s strong arm, they walked out to the car and headed back home. After giving Connor his present and getting an armful of boyfriend, an earful of thank you's and a face-full of kisses. With their kisses continuing, Hank asked Connor, “How drunk are you?”

Connor’s cheeky answer was, “I’m sober enough to consent.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hearts Don't Break Around Here by Ed Sheeran
> 
> ** By the way! If anyone is looking for another fic to read, I just started another Hankcon fic, 'Crashing Into Us'. The plot is that Connor was in the truck that hit Hank and Cole. Hank and Connor meet three years later and learn about how the accident effected each other.


	14. You Say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! Sorry, it's so late! School has been insane and I've been busy writing another fic that I've been really invested in. If Anybody wants to read that fic it's called Crashing Into Us, it's on my Ao3. (Cole still died in the car accident but Connor was in the car that hit them. Connor lost his father and his leg in the accident. When Hank and Connor meet three years later, the hatred is expected but falling for each other wasn't.)

“Lieutenant, could you forward the most recent files regarding the Sanchez murder?” With a few clicks, the file was quickly transferred to Connor’s terminal, earning Hank a wide smile, “Thank you.”

Shaking his head, Hank smirked, **‘Damn dork.’** Standing up and quickly stretching, Hank made his way to the bathroom having no idea what was going to happen next.

Captain Allen’s heavy boots made heavy, echoing thumps as he walked into the bullpen. As he walked toward Fowler’s office, he didn’t make eye contact with Connor as he passed him but that didn’t stop his son from jumping up and trying to grab his father’s attention, “Excuse me, sir.” But he was ignored. So he cleared his throat and tried again, “Sir?” When he was again ignored, Connor yelled, “Dad!”

Now, a few feet away Allen’s feet stopped and turned to face Connor. He took a few large and aggressive steps toward the shaking man before grabbing him by the collar, pulling him into his face, and growling, “What did I tell you? I’m not your fucking father!”

With every eye in the station trained on them, Gavin and Ben quickly jumped up from their desks and pulled David and Connor apart but not before Allen managed to wrap his hand around Connor’s throat. Ben grabbed David and heaved him off of Connor and begged, “Captain! Let go of him.”

Thankfully, that was when Hank chose to come walking back into the bullpen from the bathroom. Rushing over to his boyfriend, Hank wrapped a protective arm around him and asked anyone who would answer, “What the fuck is going on?”

With half an answer from Gavin, Hank kept his arm tight around Connor and grabbed their coats before leading them out to their cruiser. The whole time reassuring him in a low, careful voice, “You’re okay. I got you. Come on.”

Safely inside the car, Hank cranked up the heat and let Connor pull on his jacket before asking, “What happened?”

Connor stared forward out the windshield, unmoving and seemingly emotionless, “I want to work.”

Hank tried to get through to him, “Connor—” But it didn’t work. Connor didn’t want to listen. He wanted to deal with this his way.

“Please, Hank. I just… need to work.” Finally, Connor’s sad brown eyes closed and his face went slack with emotional exhaustion.

Not wanting to push his boyfriend further, Hank put the car in drive and pulled out of the parking lot. While they made their rounds, Connor’s phone started to ring in his pocket. When he answered it, his father’s cold voice came through, “I’m moving back to Washington.” That was it. No preamble. No explanation.

Connor tried to stop it, “But Dad, I want to talk with you. We can work this out—” But it was inevitable.

“No, we can’t. Goodbye, Connor.” And with that. A father said goodbye to his son.

Hank had his son ripped from him in a cruel twist of fate and here was David, throwing away his relationship with Connor.

As Connor managed to hang up, the phone fell into his lap. Silently, Hank reached over and took his boyfriend’s hand. They sat together as the streets passed by until Hank’s phone got an alert and he spoke up, “There was an attempted homicide across town.”

Pulling himself together, Connor sat up a little straighter and asked, “Well then… what are we waiting for?”

At home that night, while Hank was in the shower, Connor sat on the floor in front of the couch with his face buried in Sumo’s fur. He’d been acting fine all night; going along with the cases, collecting evidence, joking with his fellow officers but Hank could see right through it all.

Walking into the living room. He sat on the floor with his two boys and wrapped his arm around Connor’s shoulder, pulling him into his neck. As soon as Connor let go of the first heavy and shaky breath, Hank knew he was holding onto a lot of emotion, “I’m right here, baby. I got you, let it go.”

That’s all it took for the dam to burst. The tears streamed down Connor’s cheeks as he sobbed, “Why doesn’t he love me?” After all these years, not having his father love him was something he still couldn’t handle.

Hank just continued to rub his back in slow, soothing circles and he spoke softly to his boyfriend, “It’s not your fault, he has his own problems. But I love you and Sumo loves you.”  
Roughly wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, Connor sniffled and snuggled closer to Hank’s side, “I love you both too.” Leaning against Hank’s side and stroking Sumo’s thick fur eventually calmed Connor down enough that the exhaustion finally hit him. Even though it was still early, all Connor could think about was climbing into bed and cocooning himself in blankets, “If you were going to watch the game, I think I’d like to go to bed now.”

Not caring at all about the stupid basketball game that was on tonight, Hank gave his boyfriend all his attention, “Would you like some company?”

Shaking his head, Connor kissed Hank’s head, “No, it’s okay. I’m just tired.” He waited until Hank kissed him on the cheek and said goodnight before making his way to their shared bedroom.

After giving Hank his own sloppy kiss, Sumo trotted off after Connor; somehow knowing that he needed some extra snuggles.

After a few beers and a winning score, Hank headed off to bed but he stopped by the threshold of his bedroom door. The low hallway light illuminated the bed enough for him to see Connor curled around Sumo and wrapped in their comforter and spare blanket. Once Hank carefully laid down on his side of the bed, he noticed that Connor looked a bit pale and sweaty; thinking he was just too hot, Hank pulled one of the blankets off of him before laying down to fall asleep.

However, he only stayed asleep until four AM. The first thing he noticed was the lack of body heat next to him, assuming Connor was just in the bathroom he went to put his head back down until the sound of heaving echoed through the house.

Pulling himself out of bed, Hank walked to the bathroom where Connor was bent over the toilet throwing up. His heart lurched knowing how much it sucked to be sick, “Oh baby…” He left to get Connor some water. When he brought it back to Connor, he kneeled behind his boyfriend and put a cool hand on his sweat-soaked neck. After a moment of sitting together while Connor dealt with his stomach cramps and nausea.

Eventually, Connor squirmed and grouchily nudged Hank’s hand off his neck. He didn’t want to be touched but Hank understood that and dropped his hand before gently asking, “Want me to stay?” After Connor shook his head, Hank stood up and stroked Connor’s hair back once, “Alright, yell if you need me.”

Once he was done emptying his stomach, Connor managed to half brush his teeth before dragging himself into the hall and promptly falling asleep on the carpet.

In the morning, Hank woke up to his alarm annoyingly blaring in his ear, slapping it with his hand, he spent a few moments in bed before realizing that Connor wasn’t next to him. Dragging himself up, he went to go look for his boyfriend.

Turns out, he didn’t have to go very far; with one foot out of his bedroom he looked down to see Connor looking more dead than anything else on the floor, with little humor in his voice, Hank tried to wake him up, “I’m like half joking but please tell me you’re alive.”

When Connor groaned and waved him off, Hank chuckled in relief before leaning down to scoop up Connor who felt like a bag of jelly and bones. Slowly, he helped him to bed and carefully tucked him into a nest of pillows, sheets, and comforters.

Hank put a big hand on Connor’s forehead and as soon as he felt how warm he was, Hank knew there was no way Connor was going to work today.

After Hank got ready for work, he came back into the room with two bottles of water, Advil, and some crackers. He also made sure to plug in his phone and put it next to Connor.

Sitting on the edge on the bed, Hank tucked the blankets tighter around his boyfriend and soothingly rubbed his stomach, “There are soup and crackers in the cabinet, I have to go to work. Get some rest, baby.”

But that wasn’t going to fly with Connor. With a pout on his face, Connor tried to use those puppy eyes, “Stay.”

God, Connor looked just like Cole when he was sick. With the horrible feeling in his chest, Hank half-heartedly kissed Connor’s head, “I’ll call later.” Before he got in the car and headed off to work.

Although, he didn’t go right to work. Habit started to bring him to Jimmy’s bar. All he wanted was to get drunk and forget but on his way to the comfort of his old barstool, he got a text from Connor.

C: ‘Thank you for taking care of me. I love you, Hank.’

And with that, he knew there was no way he could let Connor down. He had been doing so well with his drinking, he couldn’t fall back off the wagon. Deciding to turn back to the station, Hank first texted him,

H: ‘Feel better, Con. I love you too.’

Turns out, going to work was the best thing Hank could have done. When they got a call for a domestic, nobody expected the couples young child to get caught in the crossfire. Thankfully, Hank was there to protect the boy and pull him away from his father’s itchy trigger finger. If Hank wasn’t there… that day would have ended horribly.

After finishing his shift, Hank headed home to his boyfriend. Walking into the still dark bedroom, Hank softly smiled at Sumo who had curled himself around Connor. When Hank put a warm hand on Connor’s thigh, he slowly stirred until his brown eyes blinked up at Hank and a sleepy smile spread over his face. With a hopeful tone, Hank asked, “How are you feeling?”

Thankfully, Connor answered, “A little better.” And he did look better; his cheeks were not as pale and green as this morning, the dark bags under his eyes were faded and his eyes looked brighter.

Feeling relieved, Hank gently started to unwrap him from his blanket cocoon, “Good. Come on, let’s get you some food because I know you didn’t eat.” However, both the bottles of water were gone so at least he was hydrated.

When they finally got into the kitchen, they both busied themselves with making soup and some sandwiches. It was peacefully quiet until Hank spoke up, “I saved somebody’s little boy today.”

Hank’s stirring was interrupted when he felt two strong arms wrap around his middle and squeeze him tight. They stayed like that for a long time until Hank turned around and faced Connor.  
The soft moonlight came through the kitchen windows as Sumo’s snoring and the low noises of the T.V filled the house, he knew that this, standing right here in the middle of his probably too dirty kitchen, cooking a semi-decent dinner with his boyfriend who is probably going to give him the flu.

Hank looked into Connor’s eyes and tried not to get emotional because nobody wanted to see an old man cry on them, “I don’t know where I’d be without you.” The look of pure happiness on Connor’s face was absolutely priceless and Hank knew that he can and will do anything to keep that look on his face for the rest of their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You Say by Lauren Daigle 
> 
> Thank you all for reading!!!


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